Sentinel
by eris.stormborn
Summary: I will protect you. I will watch the light leave the eyes of your enemies and fight for you until none remain. Until my last breath leaves my lungs, I will protect you. AU. GendryxArya.
1. Lady and the Bastard

**A/N: Hello, and congratulations for stumbling upon a piece of my feels-filled heart poured out onto paper. I mean story. To be clear, there is an age gap between Arya and Gendry. She's around 15 and he's around 19 or 20. If you don't like it, don't read any further. I'm keeping it kind of short until I get a better feel for the story and mold the characters how I want them. I appreciate any and all suggestions and reviews. Enjoy! **

"Arya." His breath was hot against her cheek, soft and sweet. Instinctively, her hand flew to her hip before she realized the comfortable weight of Needle was not against it.

"Arya, shh, it's me."

She breathed in through her nose, eyes still closed and hand still lingering over her hip. The man hovering over her smelled of pinecones and dirt and metal. A crease formed between her eyebrows.

"Gendry, go, I'm tired." Her voice was a harsh whisper that came out louder than she meant for it to. In an instant, a hand was pressed gently over her mouth, silencing her.

Arya's eyes flew open, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she sat up slightly and looked at Gendry. He was grinning that stupid grin of his, his face dirty and hair tousled. Slowly he removed his hand from her mouth, placing it on the ground next to her shoulder instead.

"You want to get caught? Is that it? You want everyone to see me rolling around on the ground with Arry the orphan boy?" He smiled wider, keeping his voice barely audible.

"Shut up, Gendry." Arya planted a hand square in the center of his chest, shoving him back roughly. He fell back on the ground, fallen leaves and dirt cushioning the impact. He laughed softly, looking up at the stars through the needles of the massive pine trees around them.

Arya sat up slowly, pulling her knees up to her chest and looking around. She could just barely spot the tents where the rest of the men were soundly sleeping, save for the two men taking their turn at watch duty.

"You could have woken me, I'm not a cripple, I can walk." She struggled to keep her voice low and in check. The words came out with more venom than she had intended.

Gendry propped himself up on his elbows, a smile still playing at his features. "No, easier to carry you. You're tiny, it was easy. Besides, if i woke you up there, you'd have woken up the whole lot of them and given us away. Small, but noisy you are, milady."

Arya extended a leg to plant a kick on his hip, which only elicited more muted laughter from him. "Shut up, Gendry." She muttered, setting her chin on top of her knees and looking away from him.

"Hey, hey..." Gendry moved to kneel beside her, but did not touch her. He had no wish for a broken nose, and he had learned to read her well enough to know that he would receive just that at times like this. "What's the matter?"

Arya turned her big eyes on him, studying him for a moment. His face was riddled with concern, his brown creased and eyes never wavering from her own. She glanced down his chest, settling on the leather pouch that rested on his hip.

"I'm hungry."

Relief washed over Gendry's features, and an easy smile returned. He ducked his head, pulling the strap of the pouch over his head and away from his body. "What's new?" He teased softly, opening the pouch and retrieving a chunk of stale bread and a piece of cheese she recognized from his dinner.

Without a word, she snatched the food away from him, tearing into the bread like she hadn't eaten in a week.

Gendry didn't speak, just watched with amusement as she demolished the food. Without needing a prompt, he held out his half full water skin to her. Arya stuffed the last piece of bread into her mouth and took the water skin, taking three big gulps to wash the food down. Only when she had finished drinking and handed the water back did Gendry dare to speak.

"Are you still hungry? I can try to break into-"

"Shut up, Gendry." Arya knocked her knee into his gently, glancing over at him. "Someone would catch you. I'm fine, really."

Gendry studied her for a moment, evaluating her. With a sigh he nodded and laid back, looking up at the stars again.

"We should go back soon." Arya said quietly, glancing anxiously at the outlines of the tents in the pale moonlight.

"Lie with me."

Arya hesitated, taken off guard by his words. "Gendry, we-"

"Arya, lie with me."

And so she did. Slowly, hesitantly, she lowered herself to the ground next to him, shoulders touching. Neither of them said anything for a while. Arya watched the rise and fall of his chest, waiting for him to act or speak.

"We can't stay here."

He spoke so softly she wasn't sure he had spoken at all.

"They'll find out."

That time, he was louder, more sure of his words. His eyes turned to Arya, catching and holding her eyes with his own. They burned with passion and determination.

Arya struggled to break eye contact and look back up at the stars, busying her mind by counting them. She could not bear to think of what he was speaking of. It would tear her apart if she did.

"Arya, we can't hide it forever and you know it. You don't have to be afraid." He lowered his voice, soft and gentle Gendry again. Her protector. "I'll take care of you. No one will ever hurt you while I'm around. I'll keep us all safe."

She wanted to fall into his words and never come out. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to leave the forest and have a real bed and real food and a hot bath. She shook the fantasies away and looked at Gendry.

"We can't leave, stupid. We'll starve to death. Besides, you could hardly protect me on our own with no supplies." He words were harsh and cutting, as they often were those days.

If they hurt Gendry, it didn't show. He remained as steadfast and calm as ever.

"We have to leave, Arya. It's the only choice we have and you know it." He took a breath, lowering his voice again. "We have to."

"Shut up, Gendry. We can talk later. Just shut up." She kept her eyes trained on the stars, counting again and willing her mind to quiet.

Gendry studied her face for a moment before relenting. He rolled on his side facing her, tenderly placing a hand over her stomach.

His breath hot against her neck, he whispered,

"I will protect you, Arya. From everything."


	2. Rabbit Stew

**A/N: Hey there. You look lovely today. Me? Oh, stop it, you. How's your day going? I wasn't going to put up a chapter today, but my husband fell asleep on me in the middle of The Dark Knight, right at the part where Jokers burning all the money? I know, right? Anyway- he's snoring and I'm waiting for food to be delivered, so here you go, lovelies. Enjoy. **

"Get a move on, ladies!"

The shout that echoed through the camp did nothing to coax the men into moving any faster. The dirt caked skeletons of men were exhausted and weary from travel. Few of them were used to constant travel, and even those that were weren't happy about manual labor before breakfast.

The sun was just starting to rise in the sky, and the men's breath was visible in puffs of smoke in front of their faces.

Arya tugged the sleeves of her shirt down over her hands in an attempt to warm them. The leaves crunched under her boots as she walked over to the wagons. A group of men were packing the supplies up and moving them to the wagons so the group could move on to the next location.

"Well don't just stand there, boy. We'll be here all day at this rate. Do something." One of the men growled at her as he waddled past with a stack of boxes cradled in his arms.

Arya bit back a smile at the sight and crouched down, gripping the edges of a crate with her raw, numb fingers. She hefted it up with effort- it was much heavier than she had expected. She had to lean back to stop the box from pulling her forward to the ground. The box pressed back against her stomach for only a second before the weight was gone from her hands entirely.

"Oh no you don't." The voice was welcome and familiar, as was the warmth of his breath against her fast as he lifted the crate from her hands with ease.

"Show off," She muttered, watching as Gendry placed the crate gently onto the wagon before turning back to her. He wiped his hands off on his thighs and took a breath.

"Will needs some help with breakfast." He crossed his arms over his chest for warmth and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Arya frowned at him, crossing her own arms in defiance. She opened her mouth to say something, but Genry beat her to it.

"It's warmer there, by the fire. Go on, don't keep him waiting, Arry."

His eyes lingered on hers for another moment before he turned and walked away to finish packing the camp up.

A puff of white vapor escape Arya's lips as she trudged away from the wagons towards the little creek to the east of their camp. A few feet beside the creek, a stocky elderly man was working a stick around a crude metal pot. At the sound of Arya's approach he looked up and smiled a toothless grin.

"Arry! Dear boy! Give me a hand, will you? One of the younger boys caught a few rabbits this morning. Bony things, they are. My eyes aren't what they used to be, you know. Why, when I was your age, I could cook up a fine rabbit stew in barely any time, I could. Best stew you've ever tasted, it was." He smiled, patting his round belly and gazing past Arya.

With a breath, his eyes snapped back to her. "So, I need you to skin and gut them, and get the meat ready to be put in the stew. You know how to do that, right boy? 'Course you do." He chuckled and lowered himself down onto a log in front of the fire, picking up his stick to push the contents of the pot around.

Arya quietly padded over to where six rabbits laid, stretched out and posed awkwardly against the cold ground. With numb fingers, she took the knife lying on a tree stump by Will in one hand, and with the other she disentangled one of the rabbits from the pile, lying him flat against the earth with his belly up.

She knelt down in front of the rabbit, positioning the tip of the small knife at the tip of it's belly. Truth be told, she had never done this before. She liked Will and his stories, and she had helped him cook before, but she had never had to skin an animal.

With a small shrug and hopes for the best, she stuck the knife into the rabbit and pulled it downwards, creating an awful gash along it's belly. Hesitantly, she pulled back the skin of the rabbit, peering in at the blood and guts below the skin.

The stench hit her first. They were not, apparently, as fresh as Will believed them to be. The knife dropped from her hands and she pushed herself up to her feet, stumbling back a few steps.

_No, Arya. Not this time. You can control this. You're not going to- _

She pitched forward, retching onto the ground and dead rabbit. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears stinging at them as she did. She knew if she looked at the contents of her stomach emptied on top of the dead, splayed open rabbit, she would only retch again.

Arya stayed on her hands and knees over the vomit, taking ragged breaths through her mouth to avoid the stench below her face.

"Aww, he's gone and retched all over breakfast!" A voice she didn't recognized cried out upon noticing her.

"What's the matter, boy, stomach too weak to handle skinning a rabbit?" Another laughed until they were all laughing, all talking at the same time. She muted them, focusing only on the rhythm of her breaths.

_Breathe, Arya. Breathe. You need to stand up. Stand up, Arya. Stand up, damn you. Stand up! _

Two hands gently wrapped around the tops of her arms, lifting her up onto her feet. Arya swayed, pitching forward again. She did not fall, however. She found herself leaning against someone, rough leather against her cheek.

She inhaled his scent, pinecones and metal, and instantly her the world around her melted away. Her legs moved, somehow, though her feet were numb to the ground below them. She kept her eyes glued shut and her face pressed against the cool leather.

When the dizziness and nausea finally subsided, Arya opened her eyes, squinting at the light of the sun that had crept over them. She was propped up against a tree, legs stretched out in front of her on the ground.

"You ok, there?"

She glanced to her left, where the voice had come from. Gendry was there, crouching down at her side. He was rubbings his hands together to warm them up.

Arya didn't trust herself to speak yet, so she only nodded.

Gendry nodded a little and held some water out to her. She took it from him, taking a sip and looking around. Most of the men around her had returned to their work, probably after some verbal coaxing.

"What happened?"

"I-... uhm... the rabbit, Will..." She sighed ad shook her head, trying to smile at him. It came out as a grimace.

"I don't want to help will cook anymore."

Gendry nodded and stood up, holding his hand out to help her up.

Without a thought, she took his hand and pulled herself to her feet.

"C'mon, I'll get you some bread to settle your stomach." He released her hand quickly, wiping his hand off on his thigh. Arya looked at her hands and realized they still had blood on them. She spilled some of the water out onto her hands before handing the water skin back to Gendry. She rubbed her hands together before drying them off on her pants before she followed Gendry through the camp.

"Arry,"

Arya spun around to face Yoren, who was striding towards them with his hand placed over the hilt of his sword on his hip.

"I need to speak to you, please."

Arya hesitated by Gendry's side, casting him a sideways glanced. She didn't move until he gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow and stepped back. Gendry turned and walked away from them, leaving Arya with Yoren.

"I'm riding on to Winterfell today." He glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to listen in on them. "As long as everything goes according to plan, you'll be home tomorrow."

He offered her a small smile, but it faded when he realized she wasn't returning it. He studied her for another second before he grunted and turned, shouting at a group of men to quit standing around as he walked away.

"What'd he want?" Gendry walked up behind her, two chunks of stale bread in his hands. He held one out to her, taking a bite of the other.

Arya took the bread and stuffed a bite into her mouth. She took her time working the bread into mush between her teeth and swallowed before she answered him.

"I'm going home. Tomorrow, maybe."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." Arya nodded a little.

"Well, what-"

"I don't know." She shook her head. "But what else can I do?"

"Tell-"

"No."

"Ar-"

"No."

With that, she shoved another chunk of the bread into her mouth and turned away, signifying the end of the conversation.

Gendry sighed, recognizing his defeat. "Feeling better?"

"Mph," She grunted through a mouthful of bread. Then she just nodded.

Satisfied, Gendry nodded too. "Do you want me to get you some stew? Should be done by now."

Arya crinkled her nose at the thought of the dead rabbits and a fresh wave of nausea washed over her. She swallowed hard, forcing the bread past the lump in her throat. She shook her head no, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth until the queasiness passed.

"Ok." Gendry nodded, eating some more of his bread.

"You can eat some. Just 'cause I don't want any doesn't mean you can't."

"I won't eat in front of you." Gendry shrugged.

"Then eat it somewhere else."

"Can't."

"Why not?" Arya looked at him, already annoyed at his smug face and amused tone.

"Can't leave when you aren't feeling well, milady. Don't want you to get hurt." A smile tugged at his lips.

Arya thrust her shoe forward, her boot making contact with his shin. A smile played at her lips despite herself as he hopped on one foot and laughed his carefree laugh.

"Shut up, Gendry." A small laugh escaped her lips as she watched him hop around like a fool, laughing all the while.

After another second she succumbed, the laughter spilling from her mouth like water. They were both laughing like fools, spitting bread crumbs everywhere and drawing the attention of everyone within earshot. And though Arya knew her worries were far from gone, in that moment, she could believe that everything would be ok.


	3. Thoughts of Home

**A/N: Hey there. I'm too tired for witty remarks. We had to drive six hours up north due to a family emergency, and our car got rear ended ten minutes after we left to return home. So we're now staying at my aunt's house, where my poor (very American) husband was subjected to my uncle's scottish cooking. Yeah. It's been quite the day. However, I really wanted to get this chapter up since it was already half done. So, enjoy!**

_"You're a pretty boy, aint you?" _

_His breath was hot against her cheek. He smelled like rotten meat and ale. His lips were rough and cracked when they brushed against the smooth skin of her neck. _

_His hands were rough, demanding. They pulled, tore, ripped. _

_She didn't satisfy him with her screams or tears. She stared him dead in the eyes with steel in her own. _

_He held one hand over her mouth, while the other demanded some more. _

_"A girl! Look it, this one's a girl!" _

_The other laughed and they said something else that she blocked out. _

_"Do you know what we do with girls around here? We cut 'em open and-" _

Arya woke with a start to the sound of someone being violently ill close by. She let out a shaky breath and laid gently back down against the ground and tried to steady her breathing. People had been getting sick all night.

Guess that rabbit really wasn't as fresh as they thought.

"Good thing we didn't eat any of it, huh?"

She looked over to her side, where the voice had come from. Gendry was propped up on his elbow, watching her with a neutral expression.

Arya forced a smile that came out as a grimace and nodded. "Yeah."

"Are you hungry? I have some bread."

Arya put a hand on her mouth. She could still feel the ghost of a hand, pressing roughly with dirty, cracked skin against her lips.

"No... No. Isn't he back yet?" Arya pushed herself up off the ground so she was sitting. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them for warmth.

"No, not yet. I wouldn't worry about it. He's probably just staying there the night." Gendry sat up too, glancing around the camp.

"Here."

Gendry wrapped his blanket around Arya's shoulders, letting his hands linger on her arms longer than necessary.

"I'm cold." Arya's voice was almost too soft for Gendry to here.

"Come here."

"Why?"

"Just come here, I'll warm you up."

Arya scooted over to Gendry, closing the foot gap between them. Without a word, Gendry loosely draped his arms around her, lending her his body warmth.

That's all he was doing, warming her up. He told himself that over and over again, but he couldn't squelch the warmth in his belly from being so close to Arya.

Gendry shook his head like a dog shaking off water and took a breath.

"You feel better? Warmer?"

Arya nodded slightly, causing her shaggy hair to fall in front of her face and obscure her eyes.

"Thanks."

Gendry let a small smile touch his lips. "Any time, milady."

Arya only nudged him lightly with her elbow. She was too emotionally and physically drained to scold him.

No one spoke then, they only sat there warming each other up for a few minutes.

"Gendry?"

"Mm."

Arya laid her head against his chest, eyes drooping shut.

"Come to Winterfell with me."

"Will milady be lonely at night without me?" Amusement coloured Gendry's voice.

"Yes."

A furrow formed between Gendry's eyes as he let the implications behind her response wash over him. No. No, she certainly hadn't meant that how he wanted her to mean it. She was kidding, surely. Poking fun at him.

He forced a soft, barking laugh out, thankful that the darkness covered the blood that rushed to his face.

"Ah, uhm, I, er..."

"Will you come with me?"

"Oh, er, I, uhm..."

Arya looked up at him from under her lashes, already half asleep.

Gendry gazed down at her, helpless under the power of those big eyes.

"I would go with you to the end of the world and back, milady."

A small smile touched Arya's lips before her eyes slid shut and her breathing slowed. Gendry held her until she was sound asleep, then reluctantly laid her down. He arranged his blanket and her own over her small body to make sure she would be warm.

Gendry laid back then, grinning up at the stars like a fool. With the warmth of her body still fresh on his chest, he fell into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in a while.

* * *

"What's your favourite food?"

His voice was so sudden it startled Arya, who had been in a trance from the monotonous sound of footsteps and horse hooves and wagon wheels. They had been walking for an hour, and the sun was just rising in the sky.

"I don't know, what does it matter?"

"I was just curious is all." He adjusted the strap of the pack on his back, shifting it's weight from one shoulder to the other.

Arya was pensive for a moment, day dreaming about all the foods she would be enjoying at her table in Winterfell.

"I like strawberry pie."

"I never really took you as a sweets kind of person."

"What about you? What's yours?" Arya glanced over at him, brushing some hair out of her eyes.

"When I was little, before my mum died, we'd go to this bakery. She'd clean his shop up for him and... I don't know what else, but... He'd give us a loaf of bread and we'd sit outside the shop and split it. Anyway, I guess it'd be bread, then."

Gendry looked up at the sky.

"Think it'll snow?"

"Maybe."

They fell silent again, letting the noises of the traveling group take over.

* * *

When they made camp for the night, Yoren still hadn't returned. It wasn't until they had finished eating dinner and were settling down to sleep for the night that they heard the sound of a horse approaching.

Relief washed over Arya as she saw him approach the camp unharmed. She had spent the entire day imagining the horrors that could have been waiting for him at Winterfell.

Arya stood, brushing her hands off on the back of her pants as she waited for him to come over.

Yored dismounted his horse, tied it up, and started walking slowly in Arya's direction. Gendry walked up behind her, watching with her as he started across. "He's back. That's good, then, right?"

As he drew closer, Arya felt her stomach sink. His shoulders drooped as he walked, and his eyes were wary and filled with sorrow.

As soon as he was close enough to hear her, Arya yelled, "Well?"

Thirty agonizing seconds past until Yoren was in front of them and taking a breath to speak. His mouth hung open for a moment like he couldn't will the words to leave his throat.

Finally, he sighed.

"Arry, I'm so sorry."


	4. Seven Hells

**A/N: Thanks for the condolences about my car. The universe sucks sometimes. I'm honestly less upset about my car than I am about having to stay with my aunt and uncle for another day. Haha, family... Anyway. Here's some fluff that was highly amusing to write from Gendy's POV. I do love torturing him. Enjoy!**

Cold air and snow stung at Gendry's face as he walked brusquely across the courtyard to Castle Black. He squinted through the onslaught of whipping wind and solid wall of falling snow in front of his face. Hands extended slightly in front of his body, he felt along the wall until his half-numb fingers found the door. With strenuous effort, he flung the door open and quickly stepped inside, pulling the heavy door shut behind him.

Gendry brought his hands in front of his mouth and exhaled, rubbing them together in the warmth of his breath. They had been there for a month, and he had expected to be used to the cold by then. Even so, the forge where he spent most of his time was warm enough that the cold didn't bother him much until nightfall. Gendry ran a hand over his hair, shaking out the snow that had stuck there. When he regained control and feeling over his toes, Gendry made his way through the halls until he reached the entrance to the King's Tower. Two men were positioned on either side of the heavy iron studded door, but they barely gave Gendry a second look as he pulled the door open. They had made the mistake of stopping him once, and they had learned their lesson.

Gendry made sure the door was shut behind him before he made his way up the winding stairs. He counted the stairs silently as he climbed them, as had become his routine. The tower was the most lavish part of Castle black, but it still left much to be desired. At the top of the stairs laid a large, open room. Against the north wall of the room was a wooden framed bed that was adorned with a brown fur blanket and feather pillows. A polished wood table and chairs sat on the east side of the room, where the guests of the tower were expected to take their meals. Opposite that wall was a dresser, a writing desk, and a full length mirror. Along that wall there was also a door, which Gendry knew lead into the bathroom.

Gendry reached the top of the steps and looked up from the worn wooden floor, squinting to adjust to the light in the room. His eyes swept across the room, past the dining table, past the bed, past the dresser.

"Arya!"

Blood rushed up to Gendry's face, painting him red from his neck to the tips of his ears. He tore his eyes away and stared dumbly at the ground. His eyes darted up to make sure that he had seen what he thought he had. With a soft groan he looked back down at the ground. There, in front of the Mirror, Arya stood completely naked from the waist up, save for a strip of white cloth she held over her chest. Her hair was damp, dark and contrasting against the ivory skin of her face and shoulders. Her back and shoulders were completely smooth and unblemished. She was small, but the muscles below her skin were defined and evident.

"Seven hells, Arya, I'm sorry, I-I didn't know... I mean, I wouldn't have, uhm, come up, if I had-"

"Come and help me."

Her voice was as calm and insignificant as if she were asking him to help her solve a riddle or finish a meal.

"Help you? Help you what?"

Despite his best efforts, Gendry's voice shot up several octaves as his eyes roamed over Arya's form.

"Tie this for me, I can't reach around back to tie it tight enough."

"What for?"

Gendry clumsily walked over to her, stopping when he was two feet behind her. In the mirror her could see the definition of her collar bone, the hollow between her-

"Are you stupid?"

His eyes shot back up to hers in the mirror. He blushed again, taking on the appearance of someone who'd been sitting with their face turned up to the sun all day.

"What? No, I mean... What?"

Arya gave an impatient sigh. "Here, just tie it already."

She jerked her hands backwards, extending the ends of the strip of cloth to him. Gendry willed his fingers to work, willed his mind to stop picturing what was beneath the cloth. As he finally grasped the cloth between his tingling fingers, Gendry forced himself to name every type of metal he could, and how to treat the different types of metals. He loosely tied the cloth behind her back and dropped his hands. "There."

"No," Arya frowned. "It's not tight enough. It's going to fall down, and it's not hiding anything, is it?"

Gendry blushed yet again as realization washed over him. His mouth parted in a small 'O' as he shakily untied the cloth again. He gripped the ends of the cloth firmly and pulled them back so the cloth was taut against her skin. Arya swayed back slightly, but quickly steadied herself. The smooth skin of her back brushed against his knuckles.

_Focus, Gendry. Name the men who sleep in the barracks around you. Will, Tom, Pyp, _

He held the cloth tight, crossing it over itself and tucking one end down under and through.

_Avery, Grenn, Jon, Sam_,

He gripped the ends of the first knot, tugging at them to make sure it was tight enough. In his haste, he tugged too hard. Arya let out a soft groan.

Seven hells.

Gendry felt his knees buckle and fought to stay upright. He cleared his throat, trying desperately to find his voice. "S-sorry."

Arya said nothing, so he forced himself to tie another knot. Every time his skin brushed against hers, his hands got shakier the final knot was sloppy and uneven, but it would have to do. He was certain he wouldn't be able to take much more.

"There."

His voice was rough and thick. Before he could step back or turn away, Arya turned to face him. The distance between them was so miniscule, Gendry could feel the heat radiating off of her body. He glanced down her body quickly, to avoid looking her in the eyes, he told himself. Her chest was pressed flat from the cloth, making the slight swelling over her stomach more apparent. The waistband of her black pants fell loosely around her hips. The bones of her hips were visible, slanting lines that disappeared below the waist of her pants. Bellow the waist-

"Hand me my shirt."

Gendry snapped out of his daze, looking at her with a dumb expression. "What?"

"My shirt? Can you hand it to me? It's lying on the bed."

"Oh, er, yeah. Of course."

He turned with much effort and forced himself over to the bed, where a simple white tunic was laid out, next to a heavier leather shirt and a black fur-lined coat. He picked up the white tunic, carrying it over to Arya. She took it silently and slipped it on.

"We're going for a walk."

"Where to?"

"No where, just a walk. I need some air. I'm never allowed out of this stupid tower."

"Did Yoren say it was ok for you-"

"We're going for a walk." The steel in her voice dissuaded Gendry from questioning her any further. He stood there trying to clear the fog in his mind as he watched her finish getting dressed. When her boots were laced up and her hood was over her head, Gendry lead her out of the room and down the stairs. The guards at the door didn't dare say a word to Arya- they were still bruised from the last time they had displeased her.

They walked in silence through the halls and to the door of Castle Black. Gendry pushed it open, waiting for Arya to go out before he went out himself. The blast of cold air was welcome against his flushed skin and allowed him to push aside the fog in his brain.

"It's snowing."

"It's always snowing." Gendry shrugged. "Where are we going?"

"No where, really."

He had to strain to hear her over the howling wind. "Ok, but we shouldn't stay out here long. I don't want you to get sick."

"What, no milady?" Arya teased, glancing over at him.

He blinked a few times, clearing his throat. "I'm... distracted."

They fell into silence then as they walked around the courtyard a few times. When Arya was ready to go back inside, she climbed the steps to the door of Castle Black, and Gendry followed without question. The stepped inside, their fingers and noses red and numb from the cold. "Hells it's cold." Arya whispered, not wanting to disturb anyone or draw attention to them.

Gendry stifled a laugh. "You're a northerner. You should be used to this."

"It's not this cold in Winterfell."

Arya's demeanor changed suddenly, and Gendry cursed himself for bringing up her home. Without another word, Arya started down the hall towards the King's tower, shoulders slumped under her cloak.

Gendry sighed and kicked himself before running after her. "Hey, I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean-"

"It's ok. Will you stay here tonight?"

"Overnight?" His eyebrows shot up. "Yoren would have my head if he found out."

"Just stay. Please."

The quiver in her voice was enough to make him do anything she would have asked for. She could have asked him to cut his own hand off with that sad puppy voice of hers, and he would have done it in a heartbeat.

"Yeah, ok."

They went past the guards and iron-studded door, climbing the stairs and abandoning their coats and boots at the top. Arya unlaced her leather over shirt and slid it off over her head. Gendry did the same, if only to keep his fingers and mind busy. Arya stepped away and added a log to the fire burning in the fireplace by her bed. She sat down in front of it, warming her numb toes and fingers. Gendry stripped down to his black pants and walked over to her, sitting beside her. For a while, they only sat there in the warm glow of the fire.

Eventually, Arya stood and yawned. Gendry lazily looked up at her, waiting to see what she would do before he decided to get up or stay in the warmth of the fire.

"I need you to untie it. You tied it a little too tight, it's starting to really hurt."

"You need me to- to what?" He looked at her, swallowing hard. It had been hard enough to tie the cloth in place and cover her up, but she wanted him to remove it? He would die, he was sure of it.

"Just untie it, it'll only take a second." She sighed. "I won't be able to sleep with it on."

Gendry took a deep breath and pushed himself up off the wooden floor, standing. "Ok. Just... hurry up."

Arya carefully pulled the white shirt up and held it up around her shoulder blades. Gendry cursed his hastiness earlier- the knots he had tied were going to be impossible to remove. In a way, that helped him focus on the task at hand. As he got past the first few knots, however, he became increasingly aware of the heat of her bare skin so close to his own. Cursing his very existence, Gendry pressed forward. As he untied the final knot, Arya sighed in relief, letting the cloth fall to the floor. "Thank the Gods."

She turned to face him as she let the shirt fall back down, and it was all Gendry could do to keep his eyes from wandering. "Don't mention it. You should go to bed."

Gendry sat back down on the floor, prepared to sleep there in front of the fire. Arya frowned. "You're going to sleep on the floor? The bed is big enough for both of us."

"Arya." It came out rougher than he had meant, sounding almost like a curse. "I need to sleep on the floor."

Arya stared at him quizzically for a few moments before she shrugged and went over to her bed. She retrieved a pillow and a wool blanket, bringing them back over to Gendry. She knelt down beside him, arranging them so he would be comfortable. Gendry watched her move, noticing for the first time the mounds of flesh beneath her shirt that hadn't been there only a month ago. Before he could properly react, Arya had left his side to extinguish the remaining lights in the room. She slipped into her bed, leaving Gendry sitting on the floor and staring like a fool.

_Seven hells. _


	5. Midnight Snack

**A/N: What? Two chapters in one day? Yeah, I know. I can't sleep and the words wouldn't stop coming! It's a long one, be warned. Enjoy!**

"Ow! Not so hard."

Gendry looked up at her with annoyance clear on his face. He was seated at the foot of her bed, with her stretched out before him. She wore only loose black cotton pants and a thin white tunic. In his lap were her feet. Her ankles were swollen and she had been complaining of pain in her feet. With a sigh, Gendry looked back down at her tiny feet and focused on rubbing the pain from them, lightly. He moved his thumbs in gentle circles across the bottom of her left foot, thankful for a mindless task to keep his hands busy enough that he could focus on being nice to her. His muscles were sore and worn from a long day of work, but her needs were far more important than his own. If that meant denying his body the rest he needed until Arya was comfortable, so be it.

"Better?"

"Mmm."

Gendry glanced up again to see that Arya had let her eyes slip close. Her face was entirely peaceful. The ever-present tension in her shoulders had eased up. She looked as if she might fall asleep at any moment. Gendry let a smile pull at his lips as he looked back down at her feet. He worked up and down her foot until he was satisfied that he had removed all the knots and pain. Then, he moved to the other, repeating the process. When he had finished, he took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, trying to stretch his stiff and aching muscles. He barely summoned the energy to pull his dirty shirt up over his head before he crawled up the bed and collapsed next to Arya.

"Gendry?"

"Mm."

"I'm hungry."

Gendry bit back a whimper, and with what felt like tremendous effort, pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. "Ok. What should I get you?"

"Some bread. Bread and an apple. And a piece of cheese if you can."

Gendry groaned and stood up on the bed. "Right. Sure. Be right back."

He got to the stairs before her heard Arya speak behind him. "Are you going down to the kitchen without a shirt on?"

Gendry paused, turning to look at her. Before he could react, the dirty off-white fabric of his shirt was covering his face. He inhaled, breathing in the scent of metal and sweat and pinecones and dirt. "Nice toss." He managed before he pulled the shirt over his head and stumbled down the stairs while shoving his arms through the sleeves. Gendry slammed his hip into the door at the bottom of the stairs to open it, as his arms were too weak to make it open on their own. The guards cast him sideways glances but said nothing.

Gendry padded down the halls, his bare feet barely making a sound against the cold wood floor. He passed through the dining hall, pausing at a painting on the wall. He stood on his toes, letting his fingers grope along the top of the frame until they met the cool metal of a key he knew to find there. Closing the key inside his fist, Gendry made his way to the door of the kitchen. With a satisfying click, he inserted the key and turned it, unlocking the door. He stepped into the pitch black kitchen, not concerned about the lack of light. He had made so many midnight runs to the kitchen he could have done it in his sleep. A skill that might prove useful, as he felt that he would fall asleep at any moment.

Gendry collected a small chunk of bread and an apple, and left the kitchen. He locked the door behind him and returned the key to the spot above the frame. He then returned back to the tower entrance, hoping he wouldn't meet anyone along the way. He was too tired to explain his attire and the food in his hands. He tucked the apple below his chin, looking down to trap it between his chin and chest, and placed a hand on the door handle to open it.

"Boy."

Gendry spun around, the apple still in place under his chin, the face Yoren.

"Sir,"

Gendry looked up without a second thought, fighting to keep his eyes open and focused. The apple fell to the floor and rolled towards Yoren, stopping when it bumped against the tip of his boot. He knelt down, picked the apple up, and returned to standing. He inspected the apple and rubbed it against his shirt before taking a step to Gendry and holding it out to him. Gendry swallowed hard, pushing past the lump in his throat. Hesitantly, he reached out and carefully took the apple.

"I want to make something very clear, boy," Yoren growled. "She _is_ a lady. She has a reputation to uphold, now more than ever." He paused to look over Gendry, pausing on his unkempt hair, untucked and rumpled shit, crooked pants, and bare feet. "If you should hurt that lady in any way, I will have your head for it. Make no mistake about it."

"Never, sir." Gendry's tongue felt like cotton in his mouth. He swallowed again, wincing at the sensation. It felt like grains of hot sand were scraping down his throat and into his belly.

Yoren seemed to relax slightly. He nodded and crossed his arms. "She has quite the appetite, doesn't she?"

Gendry let a small chuckle escape his lips. "That she does."

"How is she doing? She seems to be avoiding my presence at all costs. I know she's not pleased that I'm making her stay locked up there like a prisoner. But if I even attempt to get near the door, they," he nodded to the guards, "my own men, they tell me I'm not allowed past." He snorted. "I should let her train my other men, she seems to have a knack for command."

"She is very... commanding." Gendry agreed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Mmhm." Yoren nodded. "Well. You better take that up to her then."

"Sir, there is something I... Uhm... nevermind."

"Spit it out boy," Yoren frowned, uncrossing and recrossing his arms impatiently.

Gendry shook his head. "Nevermind. I should get this up to her."

Yoren only nodded before they both turned and went on their separate ways. Gendry climbed the stairs, using the last of his energy to ensure he didn't fall backwards down the narrow stairwell. He reached the top, willing himself to cross the large room, just barely making it to the bed before he collapsed next to Arya again. He closed his eyes, barely noticing as Arya took the food from his hands. He did, however, notice the sensation of something pressing against his cheek. In his sleep deprived state, it took him a moment to realize that it was lips against the rough skin of his cheek. His eyes flew open, a rush of adrenaline causing him to sit up and look at Arya.

She only smiled her wicked little smile at him and took a bite of the apple. She took her time chewing the bite of fruit and finally swallowed.

"Thanks."

"Any time," Gendry breathed, trying to calm the blood he could hear pounding in his ears. His cheek burned hot where her lips had been a moment ago. He slowly removed his shirt, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed, and laid back down onto the bed and watched her eat the apple and bread as he felt himself relaxing into the soft fur blanket.

Arya finished eating and drank some water before she settled down into the bed next to him. "Yoren tried to visit me again today."

"Mm?"

"I had my guards tell him I wasn't feeling well. We can't hold him off much longer, though." Arya looked over at Gendry. He could smell the sweet apple on his breath and see the water glistening on her pink lips.

He let out a breath and nodded. "I know."

Arya curled in to Gendry, nestling her head into his chest. Gendry lazily stretched one arm out, allowing her to lift her head and place it onto his arm. He wrapped it around her back, pulling her closer to him. He gently placed his other hand on her swollen belly.

He let his eyes slip closed, ready to sleep, when he felt her press her lips against his jaw again. A moan escaped Gendry's lips. The pressure of her lips lifted, only to be replaced a second later an inch closer to his chin.

"Arya," He breathed, "You don't know what you're doing to me. You need to stop. Please." His strain and discomfort were evident in his voice. In his mind flashed the images of Yoren, Robb, Lady Stark, and every other person he knew would chop off more than his head if they could see the things he was thinking of at that moment.

Arya said nothing. She placed a hand lightly on Gendry's chest and ran it down to the waistband of his pants, letting it linger there. And in that moment, every last shred of will power Gendry was clinging to evaporated. In one motion, Gendry took Arya's hand in his own and crushed his lips against hers. Arya's body froze in his, and for a moment, Gendry felt nothing but pure terror.

Then, slowly, Arya defrosted, moving her lips against his. At first, she was cautious, hesitant. The kiss slowly became more urgent, until they were clutching at each other, lips crushed together and hands grasping wherever they could with fervent passion and mutual need. Gendry could taste the apple against her lips, smell the scent of soap and fresh bread clinging to her hair and skin. He could think of nothing but her skin against his, leaving trails of fire wherever she touched.

And then, as suddenly as it started, it was over. Arya planted both of her hands firmly on his chest and tilted her head back, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Gendry couldn't think, couldn't tear his eyes away from the smooth skin of her neck. Slowly, Arya lowered her head to meet his eyes.

"Mary me, Arya. I haven't taken any vows yet- I- I can take you away from here. I can keep you safe. We can be happy. I can bake you all the strawberry pies you can eat. This isn't any place for a b-"

"Shut up, Gendry."

Arya's voice was cold as ice, making Gendry blush at his outburst. Arya squirmed away from him, turning to lie on her side facing away from him.

"Good night."

Gendry stared at her back, dumbfounded. He hadn't meant to say that, he really hadn't. It had just slipped out. Even so, he had meant every word. Still catching his breath, Gendry laid back against the warm fur blanket. He could still taste Arya against his lips. And even though he knew he had hell to pay in the morning, he couldn't stop himself from smiling as he drifted off into a deep, welcome sleep.

* * *

Arya woke early, as the first rays of light were streaming in through the window. Arya carefully got up from the bed, removing Gendry's arm from around her waist as lightly as she could. She padded across the floor, feet screaming in protest as they came into contact with the cold wooden floor. She pulled the curtain closed, throwing the room into darkness. She knew Gendry was supposed to be at the forge by then, but he needed rest. That much was obvious. Anyone who objected could deal with her directly, and she didn't need him to accidentally cut a finger off in his exhaustion.

With a final glance at Gendry's sleeping form, barely visible in the dark room, before she went across the room to the steps. She descended the steps, knocking once on the door separating her from the hallway buzzing with the voices of the men eating breakfast before they started working for the day. The door opened a crack and the face of one of her guards appeared in the gap. She liked him better out of the two guards. He had a sweet, round face and reminded her of her father. He was from Winterfell. She had never seen him before, but he knew her as soon as he saw her. She trusted him with her life.

"Could you get me some water to bathe when you get a moment?"

"Straight away, my lady." The door closed again and he vanished from sight. Arya sniffed, wiping the sleep from her eyes with the edge of her tunic sleeve. She sat on the bottom step, waiting in silence for him to return. She could smell Gendry on her skin. She needed to scrub it away so she could think clearly and forget the previous night. Part of her, a large part, was hoping that it was all a dream. An even larger part was hoping it wasn't.

A soft succession of knocks sounded at the door, signifying the return of her guard. She stood, knocking once in return. The door opened and the man stepped inside, carrying two large buckets of steamy water in his hands.

"Could you carry it up to the tub?"

"Of course, my lady."

She inwardly cringed as he called her his lady for the second time. The man started up the stairs, careful not to slosh any of the water out.

"Quietly, please," Arya whispered. "And, one more thing."

"Yes, my lady?"

"Don't call me that again."

The man frowned, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "What would you have me call you, then? My lord?"

Arya bit back a laugh. "Yes. Call my your lord."

The man bowed slightly. "Very good, my lord." A small smile touched his wrinkled face before he turned and resumed climbing the stairs. Arya trailed behind, waiting for the guard outside of the bath room. He emerged, casting a sideways glance at Gendry's snoring form on the bed. Arya cleared her throat, commanding his attention again.

"Thank you,"

"My lord." He bowed slightly and returned down the stairs. Arya waited to hear the soft thud of the door closing before she ducked into the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack behind her. At the center of the room was a large wooden tub, half-filled with steamy water. Arya loosened her pants and let them fall around her ankles, then stepped out of them. She slipped the white, wrinkled tunic off of her body, and dipped a hand into the water to test the temperature.

When she was pleased that the water would not burn her skin, arya carefully stepped into the tub and sat. She sunk down into the tub, letting the water pool around her shoulder blades. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the lip of the tub. Gendry's words echoed in her head, his skin was still hot against her own. She could practically taste his lips against her own, feel his hands hot against her back. Despite herself, a moan escaped her lips.

The sound surprised her, seeming alien in the small room. With a breath, she opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Willing herself to forget, she picked up the soap. She scrubbed her skin like she could scrub the feeling of his touch from it. She ducked her head under the water and washed her hair and face, rinsed herself off, and got out of the tub. The heat of the water escaped her by the time she crossed the small room and picked a towel up from a wooden shelf. Goose bumps dotted her skin from head to toe as she rubbed the towel across her skin and hair to dry it off. When she had stopped dripping water on the floor, Arya wrapped the towel around herself and left the bathroom.

Arya paused to ensure that Gendry was still asleep before she walked to her dresser and got out clean clothes. She glanced back at him again, feeling her stomach do a little flip at the sight of him. Then, with butterflies still in the pit of her stomach, she let the towel drop to the floor and put the clean clothes on. When she was dressed and slightly warmer, Arya sat in front of the mirror, raked her fingers through her hair, and evaluated the image of herself. Her hair had gotten longer, hanging a little past her chin. She had changed since she first arrived at King's Landing. The girl who had fought with her big sister and laughed with her father would barely recognize the young woman in the mirror.

Arya stood, turning sideways in front of the mirror. She pulled her shirt tight across her stomach, watching as a shallow bump became visible. She ran a hand over it, surprised at how alien it still felt. With a sigh she turned to face the mirror and look herself in the eyes. No matter how much she tried to deny it, Gendry was right.

_This is no place for a baby. _


	6. The Wounded Wolf

**A/N: Hi guys. First thing's first- I know some (most) of you are pretty mad that I've kept you in the dark so far. Fear not- this chapter should clear some things up. I meant to write more, but I've had a long couple of days. On the bright side, I'm finally home! Thank the Gods! My husband has vowed that we're never going to the north again unless our lives depend upon it. I suppose I'm no direworlf, ha. Anyway. I wanted to take a minute to thank everyone for your reviews. I appreciate them more than you know. So enjoy, and review!**

_This is it. This is how I die._

Over the last few months, Gendry had encountered all sorts of terrifying foes and situations, but he had never been more afraid than in that moment. The fire was blazing only a few feet from them, casting a warm glow across the room. However, Gendry felt like ice was pumping through his veins. He felt like a child who had been caught stealing from a stand at the market.

"Do you have a death wish, boy?"

The lord commander's voice boomed through the small room, shaking Gendry to his bones. He pushed away from the desk separating him from Gendry, rising to his feet. From his seated position, the man looked like a giant to Gendry. Beside him, Yoren was standing as still as a statue, arms crossed and face grave.

"Answer me!"

Gendry flinched back from the shout, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. His tongue felt like cotton in his mouth, and his stomach felt like it was twisted into violent knots.

"No, sir."

"Then _why, _Gods, _why_ would you go and put a child in her?" He slammed his fist down onto the table, causing the papers and trinkets adorning it to jump from the dark wood.

"Sir, I-"

"Do you have any idea what you've done? This whole situation was dangerous enough without her being with child! I'll have your head for this boy, mark my words!"

Gendry felt his heart pounding in his throat, felt his stomach do a flip. He cleared his throat, willing the words to come easily.

"Sir, I d-"

"No! I don't want to hear anything more from you, boy! You've caused us enough trouble. Where's my steward, dammit!"

Yoren cleared his throat. "Did you want me to bring Jon in and explain the situation to him, then?"

Suddenly, weariness replaced the anger on the lord commander's face and he sank back down into his chair behind the desk. He let out a great sigh before picking up his mug of ale and downing it. Gendry let out the breath he'd been holding in and glanced up at Yoren, who gave him a short, stern nod.

"Sir, if you would allow me a moment to explain myself, I-"

"What is there to explain?" The lord commander slammed his mug down against his desk, sloshing ale out over the sides and onto the dark wood of his desk. "You forgot your place. You fucked her, and you fucked us all."

"No." Gendry frowned, steel suddenly in his voice. Something about the way he spoke roused Gendry's anger. He wouldn't use that language when talking about his lady. He wouldn't talk about her at all if Gendry had his way.

"I did not. I would never hurt Arya. I would sooner cut my right hand off." Gendry took a breath and looked at the man across from him. "I tried to get Arya to tell her yourself, but she couldn't. She's strong, stronger than I'll ever be, but she just... she couldn't. Look, I don't know all the details, she doesn't like to talk about it. But I can tell you that i've never..."

Gendry trailed off, gazing past the lord commander as he remembered the taste of Arya's lips against his own. He had been about to say, 'I've never touched her', but that wouldn't be true, would it? Guilt washed over him, making bile rise to his mouth. Arya was wounded and confused and emotional, and he had taken advantage of her. Swallowing hard, Gendry looked back at the lord commander.

The man's eyes betrayed nothing. He stared at Gendry with steely reserve and not even the slightest hint of compassion.

"What are you saying, boy?"

"I don't know who, but... it wasn't me who did this to her."

* * *

Arya had been spending an increasing amount of time looking at herself in the mirror. She had taken to wrapping a strip of cloth around her stomach to measure it's roundness. She would mark the spot on the cloth where the two ends of the cloth met at her belly button, and watch as it took more and more of the cloth to cover her growing belly. To her, the idea of a living thing being inside of her stomach was both thrilling and terrifying. Tenderly, she lifted the cloth of her white tunic and held it at her chest, looking at her naked belly in the mirror. She placed a hand on the bump under her skin, almost expecting to feel it wriggling around in her stomach.

With a sigh, she let her shirt drop and turned away, walking quickly over to her bed. The fur blanked was wrinkled and carelessly thrown across the bed. She laid down on the right side of the bed, burying her face in the pillow where Gendry's head normally rested. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of pinecones and metal and comforting thoughts. The room was chilly, but Arya felt a rush of warmth run over her body, extending from the tips of her ears to the tips of her toes. She rolled to lie flat on her back, letting her eyes slip closed. It had only been a few hours since she woke, but she found that she was constantly on the verge of sleep recently.

_You're a pretty boy, ain't you?_

Arya grimaced, willing her eyes to open and the warm fuzzy feeling to return. It did not, and the memories wouldn't stop coming.

_Arya awoke, the ground cold and moist under her back. Blindly, she threw and arm out to her side, but she felt only more dirt where she had expected to find the warm flesh of the blue eyed boy. Her arm hit the ground harder than she had expected it to, sending a flash of pain up the limb. _

_Assuming he was already there, Arya stood up and nimbly danced over the bodies of the snoring men until she reached the edge of the camp. She slipped her shoes off, picking them up and allowing the soles of her feet to guide her across the forest floor. _

_When she reached the clearing they had agreed on, she dropped down to the mossy ground, crossing her legs in front of her. He wasn't there. She didn't worry. He had probably just gone to get food. He did that sometimes, when he was feeling daring. _

_Arya closed her eyes, seeing with her ears and nose and hands pressed against the earth. A twig snapping and gentle vibrations across the forest floor alerted Arya of someone coming closer. A crease formed between Arya's eyes. Gendry's steps were light and silent and familiar. These were heavy and clumsy and frightening. _

_Arya threw her eyes open, just as the tip of a boot connected with her chin, sending her flying back and tasting blood. When her vision returned to normal, she saw the face of one of the men looming over her. He stank of ale and sweat and false courage. She knew his face. She had seen him before. He was a timid man, which she had always found odd considering his size. His teeth were yellowed and rotting. Another man lingered behind him, fidgeting and nervous. His eyes darted around, wild and afraid. _

_"You're a pretty boy, ain't you?"_

_Then, came his hands. Dirty and rough and demanding. They tore at her clothes, pinched and pushed and scratched. Arya locked her eyes with the man, trying to get her mouth open to bite the hand covering it. She squirmed with all her might, kicking and kneeing and elbowing where she could. _

_"Hold the rat down."_

_The nervous man fidgeted another minute before he scurried over, planting his knees on Arya's arms. His hands held her wrists down to the earth. If the other man hadn't been so damn large, Arya would have strangled him by then. _

_"A girl! Look it, this one's a girl!"_

_Laughter. More talking. _

_The man squeezed her cheeks, staring into the steely grey eyes that had been on him the whole time. _

_"You know what we do to girls around here? We cut 'em open and-"_

_Arya took his momentary lapse in concentration to land a kick on his thigh. _

_"Ow! Damn you, girl, you're going to pay for that!" The man growled, bringing his flat hand across Arya's face. Her eyes stung with tears at the pain from the slap, but she kept her eyes locked with his. If he was going to do this to her, he was going to have to look her in the eyes while he did it._

_He ripped at her pants, freeing them from her hips. _

_Then, Arya only remembered pain. It lasted only a few minutes. The man grunted and groaned, nearly crushing her with the weight of his massive body. She did not cry out. Did not let the tears come or beg him to stop. She only vowed to herself that she would stab him like he stabbed her. Only she would stab him through his heart. She would cut him open and gut him like a fish. But before she let him die, she would cut his manhood off so he would know that even if the afterlife, he would never hurt another girl._

"Arya?"

Arya's eyes flew open and a cry caught in her throat. Gendry rushed over, kneeling carefully on the floor next to her. He placed a hand gently on the side of her face, sweeping his thumb under her eye. She realized that tears had been running down her face and she choked back a sob.

"Hey, hey, shhh. I'm right here."

Without another word, Gendry leaned up and pulled Arya into his arms, letting her burry her face into the cloth over his chest. He held her and stroked her hair and closed his eyes, remembering the last time he had seen her cry.

_Gendry returned to the camp, grinning at his feat. He had in his arms a whole loaf of burnt bread, and a large chunk of cheese. He'd risked his neck to get it, but he was famished and he wanted to impress Arya. They were always trying to best each other. He shrugged easily when he saw the empty spot where she had been sleeping. He knew where to find her._

_He made his way through the sleeping men, then through the trees. Arya had always been better at navigating through the trees. He cursed her and wished he had listened to her rambling about seeing with her ears, or whatever nonsense she'd been spouting that day. He tucked the bread under his arm and felt along the trees with his free hand. _

_A strange noise caught his attention, directly in front of him. He frowned, assuming it was a wounded deer or some other animal. It wasn't a cry, exactly. More like a strangled moan. Like the sound he would expect a sickly old man to make before dying. _

_As he broke through a clump of trees into a moonlit clearing, Gendry squinted and searched the ground for the dying animal._

_The loaf of bread and cheese hit the forrest floor. _

_"Arya!"_

_She was bruised and bleeding, clothes hanging limply from her thin body. He rushed to her side, pulling his shirt over his head. He carefully slipped it over her head, covering her up before he pulled her into his arms. _

_"Who did this?" Gendry's voice was rough and thick. "I'll kill him. I'll cut his-"_

_"No," Arya's voice was clear and cold as ice. "He's mine."_

_Only then did she let the tears come._


	7. Punches and kicks

**A/N: Hey guys. I wasn't really sure how to go about this chapter, and I think it might end up mostly fluff, but here goes nothing! My best friend is getting married this weekend, and I'm his maid of honor, so I probably won't get anything up until Monday or Tuesday. Here's to hoping I don't go into labor during the ceremony. Enjoy! **

"Well?"

Arya's voice held more venom than she had intented. Maester Aemon had been at this examination of his for nearly an hour. Arya at first was patient with the old man, blaming his lack of vision for the delay. After a while, though, Arya felt her temper rising. She wanted to get back to bed and eat and sleep and have Gendry give her a foot rub.

"Shush, Arya." Gendry chided softly, stroking her hair. He was sitting cross legged at the top of the bed, with Arya's head propped up against his somach, shoulders on his lap. The Lord Commander had taken a day or two to simmer down before he told Maester Aemon that a refugee they had taken in was with child and required his assistance. Arya had taken another two days to warm up to the idea of the old man getting so close to her. Only Gendry was allowed that close, she had insisted. In the end, Gendry won the argument with various promises and threats and bribes.

"Well," Maester Amon crossed the room slowly, washing his hands off in a bucket of water. He groped along the counter until his fingers found the rough fabric of a towel and dried his hands off before continuing. "It would appear as though you are with child."

Arya roughly shoved herself up on Gendry's lap, eliciting a string of curses from him as she brought her elbow down into his groin. Too annoyed to apologize, Arya swung her legs over the bed and stood. From there she tied the waist of her pants securely around her hips and looked at he blind old Maester.

"If that's all you can tell me, you can go."

"You know," The old man began, with a great sigh, "You speak rather sharply for a lowly refugee. No, nevermind. It isn't my place to ask. I am rather low on supplies, but I believe I can have moon tea made for you by the end of the week. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Moon tea..." Arya frowned, searching her memories for where she had heard the name before. Realization washed over her like nausea, causing her to grip the wooden frame of the bed to regain her balance. She had heard that before in King's Landing. While chasing cats, she had stumbled past an open window and heard a snippet of conversation that caught her attention. A whore who had missed her moon blood was seeking out an old wise woman for some moon tea. But why would Maester Aemon be making her the same tea?

Again, realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

"No! No, you can't! I won't let you." Instintually, her hand went to her hip to feel the comfort of Needle's cold steel against her hand.

The Maester's face contorted to an expression of surprise.

"Certainly you don't mean to keep it, girl. It won't survive a fortnight out in the wild."

"It won't _be_ out in the wild." Arya insisted, placing a hand protectively over her stomach.

The Measter chuckled. "Well you can't mean to stay here! Once you're healthy, they'll be sending you on your way."

"And I will have their heads for it." Arya hissed, realizing too late how much she had given away. She jumped at the warmth of Gendry's hand on her shoulder, only to sigh deeply and lean back against him a moment later.

She glanced back at the Maester, dismayed to find him looking rather smug.

"I don't know who you are, my lady, but you certainly are unlike any refugee I have ever met before. In any case, you are..." He paused, clearing his throat and tugging at the chains around his neck, "You are rather large, for your early stage. Don't take that as an insult, no, the babe appears to be perfectly healthy. Mayhaps the Gods have blessed you with twins." He chuckled, patting his stomach merrily.

"Have you felt it move within you yet?"

"No," Arya frowned. "Is that bad? Should it be moving yet?"

"No, no, don't fret, my lady. I'm certain it does move, you just do not yet recognize the feeling." He looked past her, his milky white eyes resting on the wall beyond them.

"The Lord Commander had rather expected you to take the moon tea, my lady. He shan't be pleased with this news, oh no." Maester Aemon chuckled again. "Now, if you please, my lady, have the boy escort me down the stairs. Terrible things they are, I fear I'll fall to my death."

Gendry grimaced and disentangled himself from Arya's grip so he could walk the old Maester down the steps. Only when the door was shut behind him and Gendry had returned to the bed did Arya let out the breath she'd been holding in.

"I get the feeling we're no longer welcome here," Arya looked over at Gendry, waiting for his response.

"We can't just leave. You heard him, the baby won't live. Winter is coming, you of all people should know that. We've nowhere else to go." His eyes were shut, his face smudged with dirt and sweat and soot. He looked older than his age, and Arya felt guilty for that. She did not press the matter further. She ran her fingers lightly through his messy black hair, wrinkling her nose.

"You stink."

A soft laugh escaped Gendy's lips and his blue eyes opened a crack, eyeing her playfully.

"You go work in a forge all day, tell me how lovely you smell."

Arya smiled and shrugged. "Better than staying locked up here. You need a bath. I'll have water brought up for you."

"I don't need a bath, I'm a man. This is how men smell." He smiled, crossing his arms over his chest deffensively.

"Will if a certain _man_ wants to sleep in my bed, he'll have to smell fresher than that." Arya got up, crossing the room and hesitating at the top of the steps for Gendry's response.

"Alright, alright. I could use a bath."

Arya smirked and went about getting hot water brought up to the room. Her guard knew better than to even cast Gendry a second glance that time. He simply dumped the water into the wooden tub, bowed deeply to Arya, and then returned to his post.

"You'd think he's a lost puppy," Gendry remarked as he unlaced his boots and stepped out of them. Arya shrugged.

"He's loyal. He knew my father. I like him."

"Mm."

Arya unlaced Gendry's leather jerkin, letting it fall to the floor. His once-white shirt was nearly black with soot and dirt and sweat. He lifted it over his head, leaving his chiseled torso bare. Arya took a second to drink in the sight before she tore her eyes away and turned to the tub.

"So, the soap's right there. Make sure you wash behind your ears."

"I have taken baths before. You sound like a mother already." He teased before he stepped into the bathroom, lazily kicking the door shut behind him. Arya listened at the door for a moment to hear him get into the tub, and then she returned to her spot on her bed. She laid back, running her hands over her stomach. She was rather large for the early stage of pregnancy, but perhaps it only seemed so because of her slight stature, she told herself. She laid very still, remembering what the Maester had said about the babe's movements. She waited and waited, trying to feel for any sign of movement. Still, she felt nothing. Arya sighed, trying not to let it dishearten her.

She was still trying to feel for the movements of the baby when there was heavy pounding at the iron-studded door at the bottom of the stairs. Then came shouting she couldn't make out exactly.

"Gendry!"

Arya sat up at the edge of the bed, clutching the fur blanket tight. The door the the bathroom flew open and out came Gendry, still tying his black pants in place. He dripped water on the floor, leaving a trail from the bathroom to the stairs. He shook his hair out and shivered, looking back at Arya.

"Stay there. It's probably nothing. I'll be right back."

Arya ignored him and stood, walking to where she could see to the bottom of the stairs. Gendry paused at the bottom of the stairs as the commotion suddenly stopped. Then, three heavy knocks came at the door. Gendry pulled it open, and was swiftly met by a fist to his face. He stumbled back against the stairs, holding his nose. Arya could see blood seeping out from between his fingers. Her eyes didn't linger there long, however, because an all too familiar voice then shouted,

"Arya!"

Arya turned the voice of the man who had punched Gendry, and her mouth spread into a big grin.

"Jon!"

Jon pushed past Gendry, bounding up the stairs and over to Arya. He quickly pulled her in for a hug, laughing like he hadn't laughed in years. "You're alive! Gods, you've grown. You look like a woman now, you certainly can't be my little sister. Let me see you."

Jon stepped back, holding her at arms length. His eyes ran over her messy hair, smiling face, muscled shoulders, and settled on the fabric of her shirt stretched tight over her swollen belly. His eyes lingered there, face neutral for a moment as if he could not process what he saw.

Suddenly, his eyes shot back up to her, fire in them then.

He wheeled around on his heels, turning to face Gendry, who had just made it to the top of the stairs. Blood was flowing from his nose like a river, dripping down his naked chest and onto the floor, mixed with the water from his bath.

"I should have done more than punch you, you pathetic-"

"Jon, no! Don't hurt him."

Arya lunged forward, catching the sleeve of Jon's black coat. She pulled him back with all her might, but it was no use. Strong as she may have been, Jon was bigger and stronger. He easily tugged his arm free of her grip, striding over to Gendry. Gendry looked up at him with wide eyes, refusing to fight his lady's brother.

"Who are you?"

Jon growled it at him through clenched teeth, looking very much like a direwolf in that moment. Arya watched Gendry's adams apple bob up and down in his throat as he swallowed hard, eyes darting over to catch Arya's.

"G-gendry, milord."

"Gendry _what_?" Jon barked, impatient.

"Waters. Gendry Waters."

Jon looked away in disgust, turning back to Arya. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you? I- I can have Maester Aemon make you some moon tea. He's a right mean old git, he is, but I can talk him into it."

"Jon," Arya said, slowly walking towards him and Gendry. "Do not hurt him."

Jon's face twisted with confusion as he looked between Gendry and Arya. Finally he settled on Arya and sighed.

"Arya, you've got to be kidding me. You can't see him anymore. You know that, right? And you can't keep that baby. Imagine what your mother would say. You're a lord's daughter, you would-"

"We're getting married," Arya blurted out, glancing back to see Gendry's eyes widen like two icy blue saucers.

"What?"

"We're betrothed." Arya stated, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. "You can't hurt him. Besides, Gendry's a good fighter. You could never beat him."

Her voice faltered as she remembered Gendry's feeble attempts at understanding the water dace she had desperately tried to teach him. Behind Jon, Gendry flinched at the remark.

Jon sighed, shifting his weight impatiently.

"And you expect me to just let him in here, half naked and alone with my little sister? Arya, you've gone mad."

"Gendry's saved my life. More than once. I wouldn't be in this room before you if I didn't keep him by my side."

Arya edged around Jon, carefully grasping Gendry's elbows and pulling him back a safe distance from Jon quickly. Gendry crouched down, picking his dirty shirt up from the floor and holding it to his nose with one hand. He roughly wiped the other off on his pants before Arya grasped it in her own, lacing their fingers together.

Jon sighed, defeated.

"He can't sleep in here, Arya. It's not decent. Not proper."

"Since when d'you care about proper, Jon? I'm not a little girl anymore."

"You _are_." Jon insisted, walking over to them with heavy steps. He placed a rough hand on the side of Arya's face gently, looking into her grey eyes. "You are."

Arya softened, watching as Jon dropped his hand away from her face. She tightened her hold on Gendry's hand when Jon shifted his gaze to Gendry's obscured face.

"Go to Maester Aemon. Get that set, before it goes crooked." It wasn't a request, it was a demand.

Gendry did not move until Arya released his hand and nodded slightly, placing her newly free hand on her stomach to keep it occupied.

"Go."

"As milady commands." His voice was low and muffled behind the fabric of his shirt, but he didn't give Arya time to respond. He turned and padded down the stairs, avoiding the puddles of blood and water as he went. Jon seemed to visibly relax when the door closed behind Gendry. He removed his cloak and laid it across the back of a wooden chair.

"How do you feel? Are you well?"

"I'm well enough." Arya shrugged, sitting on the edge of her bed. Jon pulled a wooden chair over, sitting bakcwards with the high back of it against his chest. He folded his arms across the top, watching Arya with wary eyes.

"And the..." He trailed off, glancing at her stomach.

"Well too."

"How far are you?"

"Five moons, almost."

"Only five? You're..."

"Maester Aemon said I was pretty big for only four moons too." Arya looked away uneasily, keeping a hand protectively over her stomach.

"And he's not... concerned about anything? About birthing a child here? At the wall...? There's not a woman to be found, let alone a midwife."

"We'll figure it out." Arya said softly, still not meeting his gaze.

"Well what happens wh-"

"We'll figure it out." Arya's voice resonated with steel, and she met his gaze with ice in her eyes.

Jon sighed, leaning back slightly.

"You've grown up, little sister. You sounded so much like father just now, I..." He trailed off, looking down to study his hands.

Arya sighed, softening slightly. "Let's not fight already. Tell me about all of your adventures, and I'll tell you about mine. And all the trouble Needle got me out of. Did I tell you about my dancing lessons?"

And for a while, they were content to sit there and swap stories and enjoy each other's company. Arya hadn't realized how much she had missed him until then. How much she missed all of her family. Jon fixed her sadness with a few lewd jokes he had learned from some rangers, and they laughed and talked and exchanged slightly exaggerated stories.

When Gendry returned, his nose was all cleaned up and set with white cloth taped over it. He had some bread and ale and cheese, and a few apples for Arya. And slowly but surely, Jon warmed up to him. They got along well, especially after they each had a few cups of ale. Arya refrained from drinking, simply content with watching her two boys laughing and carrying on. Eventually Jon had to leave to take his turn at watch, and Arya and Gendry were both drowsy and full by then.

"I'm glad you liked him." Arya said as she climbed into the bed and pulled the blankets around her body. Gendry flopped down onto the bed, wiggling his legs under the cover lazily.

"Mm."

Arya rolled her eyes and leaned over to inspect his nose. There were a few specks of dried blood around the bandage, but other than that she couldn't tell how bad it was.

"Does it hurt?"

"Tis but a scratch, my lady."

Arya grinned easily and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "It's late. You should sleep."

She curled up to Gendry, letting his warmth raidate onto her. Before long, his breathing slowed and he snored lightly. She willed sleep to come, but will as she might, it did not. She grimaced at a nagging wrigling feeling in her stomach, like she had eaten a life fish. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore it, placing a hand over her stomach under the blanket.

"Gendry!"

Arya's eyes flew open and she propped herself up on her elbows suddenly, causing Gendry to nearly fall off the bed beside her.

"What? What is it? Who's there?"

He groped blindly along the night stand to find the dagger laid there, eyes barely open.

"No, shut up, it's fine. Just give me your hand."

Gendry sighed and laid back again, letting his eyes slip shut.

"Hells, Arya. You scared me. What is it?" Sleep was already creeping over him when Arya firmly gripped his wrist and laid his hand on top of her belly. A moment passed in silence before Gendry's eyes flew open.

"What was that?"

His eyes grew wide as he felt movement beneath his hand again, then nothing.

"The babe... I think..."

Gendry looked up to meet Arya's eyes, a smile spreading across his face. Arya smiled too, putting her hands over his on her stomach. She didn't know what was going to happen, or how they would be able to have a baby in a place like Castle Black. She didn't know the first thing about babies or how to take care of them. She didn't know if the baby would even live. But none of that mattered in that moment. Her baby lived right then and there, in her belly. And as they felt the movements of it's tiny limbs under her skin, Arya and Gendry knew that they were both going to do whatever they needed to so they could protect the life growing beneath their hands.


	8. Braavos

**A/N: I'm back! Sorry- I wanted to get this up yesterday but my mum (who absolutely despises my husband) decided to drop by for an unexpected visit. Gotta love family. Anyway, I finally had a few moments of peace to finish this chapter, so here it is. Enjoy!**

"What about Riverrun?"

Gendry had come to her tower that night with his arms full of scrolls and other pieces of parchment. They had been talking about leaving for several days, but it wasn't until then that it felt real to Arya.

She looked over at him, a small smile coming to her lips. He was sprawled out across her bed, feet dangling off. He was lying on his stomach with his elbows propping his torso up, maps scattered around his arms carelessly. He met her eyes with a glimmer of something she couldn't recognize in his own.

"That's where your mum's from, right? I could get a job in the forge. Your relatives would protect you, I'm sure. I could build us a house..."

Arya allowed herself a moment to indulge in the fantasy laid out before her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, picturing a little house in the countryside. Gendry and her would sit on the front porch in the cool evening air and watch the baby- no, a grown child by then, she corrected herself, play in the grass with a pup or two. They would talk and eat supper in the open air, and she would teach him and the child what she knew of the water dance. And they would be happy.

"Arya?"

"No. It's too close to King's Landing."

Arya opened her eyes and the images evaporated into nothing more than ghosts of thoughts. Gendry nodded silently and looked back at his maps, tracing lines with his fingers. Arya had been teaching him to read. He was a quick study, but he still had to stare long and hard at the characters on the map before he could make sense of them.

"We could go to your aunt, at The Eyrie."

Arya wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "She wouldn't take us in. Jon said she's a paranoid old witch."

"Well where then?"

Gendry sighed and pushed the map of the Seven Kingdoms away hastily, sending the parchments flying. A stray parchment fluttered to rest only a few inches from where Arya sat on the floor. She had been seated in front of her dresser, pulling clothes out to prepare to pack. She set down the rough white tunic in her hand and picked the parchment up, turning it over.

A smile touched Arya's face and memories flooded through her with one glimpse at the word printed at the top of the map. She could almost hear him now, talking in his thick accent about his home. She had never been there, but she felt like she knew it already. The answer seemed suddenly very clear to Arya.

"What... What about Braavos?"

"What?"

Gendry sat up, carefully avoiding the more delicate parchments, and turned to look at her. He crossed his legs and rubbed his eyes, opening them to study her again.

"Braavos. We could go to Braavos. Syrio- my dancing teacher, he was the First Sword of Braavos. We could sail there. It's a free city, out of the reach of Cersei and Joffrey and everyone else."

Gendry was quiet for a moment, thinking. Suddenly he nodded and picked up another map, studying it for only a moment before he spoke.

"We could sail out of White Harbor."

"We could."

"Are you sure you want to leave, though?"

Arya bit down on her lower lip, thinking of Winterfel. Of Robb and Rickon and Bran and Jon and even Sansa. She though of her mother and her father, and all of the comforts of home. And then she though of the cheers as her father's head rolled, and the things Cersei would do to her and, more importantly, her baby if she got her hands on them.

"I don't want to, Gendry." She sighed. "I have to."

And with that, the matter was settled. Arya stood, leaving the drawers open with clothes hanging from them, and she walked over to the bed to help Gendry gather the maps up. They worked in silence, carefully stacking the worn parchments and scrolls on the dining table. When every one was accounted for, they returned to the bed to rest.

"We'll have to leave soon."

Arya nodded at his statement as she slipped under the fur blankets and got settled into the bed. She lazily watched him slip his dirty grey shirt over his head and climb into the bed beside her. He rolled onto his side to face her, propping himself up on his elbows. The muscles in his arm were corded and sharp, and coated with a grimy layer of grey soot.

"Do you need anything? Because as soon as I lie down, you're going to ask me for something."

"No," Arya smiled a little and nudged him in the stomach with her elbow. "Get some rest."

"As milady commands."

He laid back, a smile lighting his face up. Arya elbowed him again, harder this time. He only laughed, like he always did. She couldn't help but laughing too. After a moment, their laughter died out and silence crept over the room. They were not asleep, but sleep was sure to come soon enough.

"Why did you kiss me that night?"

Her voice was sudden, cutting at Gendry like a sword. His eyes flew open and blood rushed to his face. He willed words to come forth, any words at all, but none did. He only propped himself up again and searched for an answer with his mouth hanging open. Arya pushed herself to sit up and looked at him expectantly.

"I- er, I-... I don't know. Hells, Arya, I'm sorry. I don't know why. I just did it. I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry."

"Was it-.. Was I bad at it?"

Now Arya was blushing, her grey eyes flitting between Genry's face and her lap. It was only then that he remembered her youth. It had been easy to forget, as she had learned very well to act the adult.

"At kissing?"

Gendry blushed a deeper red and lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably. He cleared his throat and fidgeted about.

"No, no... you weren't bad at all."

His voice broke in the middle of the sentence, shot up an octave by the end, and shook tremendously.

"Then why..." She cleared her throat and turned her steel grey eyes on him. "Why haven't you kissed me again?"

Gendry met her eyes, his own wide with surprise. And shred of dignity and will power he had left was gone when he looked into those big grey eyes of hers.

"Did you _want_ me to kiss you?"

Arya shrugged her slender shoulders and held his gaze, biting down lightly on her lower lip.

"Why didn't _you_ kiss _me_?"

"I thought-... I thought... nothing. Good night."

Arya hastily laid back down and turned her back to him, leaving Gendry shaken for a moment. He stared at her back, mulling over what had been said. He knew that he should just lie down and forget it ever happened. He knew that she was confused and emotional and didn't mean what she was saying. But Gendry had never been one to listen to sense.

"Arya, wait. Look at me."

Slowly, Arya sat up once more and turned to face him. Her face was flushed pink and stained with embarrassment. Gendry leaned in and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before he leaned closer yet, letting his lips graze the skin on her neck, just below her ear.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

Arya did not deign to answer him. She turned her head and caught his lips against her own. There was no hesitation this time. She pressed herself to him with a sense of urgency that only Gendry could understand. She needed him. She needed to feel his skin against hers, smell metal and pine cones clinging to her hair when he was gone, taste the smooth skin of his lips. He needed her even more.

Arya knotted her fingers in his shaggy black hair and Gendry ran a hand down her back. He reached the edge of her shirt and slipped his hand under it, lightly tracing the bumps of her spine under her bare skin. Arya sighed softly against his lips and he took the opportunity to move his lips to her neck, planting gentle kisses down to her collar bone. He was gentle, but Arya could sense the urgency behind his sweet kisses as well as he could.

Arya ran her fingers through his hair and let her eyes slide shut as he showered her with kisses. His hands slipped around her rib cage under her shirt, coming to rest tenderly on her sides. Gendry kissed back up her neck and caught her mouth again, and Arya was engulfed in the heat of his kiss again. She wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, to feel him against her skin at all times for the rest of her days. Gendry left her lips again for a fraction of a second to catch his breath.

_You're a pretty boy, ain't you?_

Arya flinched and pushed the memory back. She refused to let anything ruin this moment. Especially not him and his rough hands and rotten teeth and cruel words. She forced her attention back to Gendry, who was murmuring something in her ear. She could not hear it.

His hands ran down over the swell of her stomach and found the top of her black wool pants. He hooked two fingertips under the top, leaving them there. He trailed kisses down her sternum over the rough fabric of her undershirt. Arya tightened her grip on his hair, eliciting a throaty moan from Gendry that could melt a girl.

_You're a pretty boy, ain't you?_

"No!"

Her voice was thick and shaky. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to get as far away from Gendry as she could. His skin felt like hot coals against her skin, searing her skin. She wanted to scream and push him away, but he was quicker. His hands retreated instantly, and he leaned away from her. His breathing was ragged and heavy, but he did not look upset. He kept silent and waited for her to move.

"I can't. I can't. I-"

Gendry held a hand up, silencing her. He only shook his head and stood up, picking his shirt up off the floor. He stepped into his boots and turned to look at Arya, giving her a sad smile before he turned and crossed the room to descend the steps. He disappeared from view and Arya heard the door shut behind him, leaving her feel more alone than she had felt in a long time.

Arya cursed the old gods and the new, Cersei, Joffery, Illyn Payne, and the Hound. But most of all, she cursed herself. With Gendry's sad smile fresh in her mind and tears stinging at her eyes, Arya let a restless sleep wash over her.

* * *

Gendry woke with a throbbing head and a new found sense of self-loathing. He swung his legs off the hard cot he had slept on and stepped into his boots. He yanked his clothes on and fastened his cloak around his neck. Gendry wove through the rows of snoring men and made it outside just before he pitched forward and retched into the snow. The sun had not yet come up, but there were already a few people milling about the courtyard. No one paid him much attention, for which he was thankful.

He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand and felt himself trudging through the snow to the forge. Noye wasn't there yet, which suited Gendry just fine. He needed to be alone to do what he had planned. He'd been working on it for a few days, but he needed to finish it now more than ever. Gendry unfastened his cloak and hung it up before he rolled his sleeved up and got to work.

The work did little to keep Gendry's mind busy, and more than once he nearly lost a finger to his carelessness. Guilt was eating him away, churning his stomach and making him sick. He wanted to take it back so badly it hurt. Still, he pressed on, working harder and quicker than he ever had before. So focused was he that the big, one-armed smith had entered the forge without being noticed.

"What are you doing, boy?"

Gendry jumped at the voice, narrowly missing his thumb with the hammer he was weilding. He looked up and sighed in relief, bringing the hammer up to swing it again. He did not trust himself to speak, so he did not answer the man.

"You're here early. Couldn't sleep?"

The smith removed his cloak and walked over to a rack of swords on the wall, inspecing them for any damage.

"Something like that." Gendry muttered, listening to the song of the steel under his hammer.

"Have you broken your fast, boy?"

"Not hungry."

"What are you working on? I don't remember asking you to-"

"It's a personal project. I'm nearly done."

"Mph."

The smith grabbed a dull sword and walked away without a word, working with his one arm to sharpen it in silence. Gendry allowed his mind to be consumed by his work and shoved down all of his guilt and disgust. Only when he risked damaging the steel from his hunger did he abandon the forge to make his way to the dining hall. It was almost noon by then, and the sun was particularly warm that day.

"A boy is troubled."

Gendry spun around to face the dirty-faced man beside him. Gendry remembered after a moment that the man had been with them on their journey to the wall. He had never learned his name, but he recognized his white and red streaked hair. The man now had chains around his ankles that were just loose enough that he could walk.

"Excuse me?"

"A boy is troubled." The man repeated in his thick accent, a smile playing at his features.

"What's it to you?"

"A man is simply making an observation. A man wonders if it has something to do with a girl."

"There are no girls here."

Gendry felt a fresh wave of guilt and anger wash over him and narrowed his icy blue eyes at the man. The man smiled at him, his white teeth flashing at Gendry. He bowed forward slightly, making Gendry feel foolish for a moment. Blood rushed to his cheeks and he searched for a change of conversation.

"Where are you from?"

"A man has lived in many places."

"D'you ever give a straight answer?"

Gendry shifted his weight from foot to foot impatiently, feeling the wind bite at his exposed skin. The man gave Gendry an amused look, but did not answer him.

"You're not from anywhere I've heard of. Not from anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms, I'd wager."

"A boy is smart."

Something about the way his voice came forth made Gendry feel even more foolish. He didn't like this man, he decided.

"Then where _are_ you from?"

"A man came from Braavos."

"Braavos...?"

The man inclined his head slightly in response, studying Gendry quietly through strands of hair that blew over his eyes. A small smile touched Gendry's lips, but did not meet his eyes. He nodded a little, weighing the pros and cons of what he was thinking of doing.

"Have you had lunch yet, _man_?"

The man shook his head ever so slightly.

"Go wait outside the forge, I'll bring some food. I need to talk to you."

"What is it that a boy needs to talk about?"

"Braavos."


	9. Lovely Girl

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the delay, I've had bad writers block and an ongoing war in my house. I started this a few days ago, but I couldn't find inspiration to finish it until my mum left, but anyway. Let me know what you think. I'm conflicted as to how I want to proceed, and your reviews always mean the world to me. Sorry, enough of me. Enjoy!**

"Are you _sure_ you want to do this, Arya?"

Arya grimaced at the question, which Jon had posed for the hundredth time that night. In all honesty, Arya was not sure at all. She was a girl of five and ten, leading a mission to break out a dangerous criminal and sail with him to a foreign land. Still, she arranged her features into a mask of neutrality and breathed deeply to calm her racing heart as she turned to her brother.

"Is everything in order?"

Jon nodded, his dark curls bouncing atop his head as he did so. Slowly he rose from his seat and crossed the room, eliciting groans of protest from the worn wood under his heavy boots. He wrapped a gloved hand around the strap of a worn leather bag that contained all of Arya's possesions. Well, all but one. Jon walked back to where Arya stood in the center of the room and handed the bag to her. She took it easily and slung the worn leather strap over her shoulder. Her posessions were few, and mostly clothes, so the pack was light enough to cary without any discomfort.

"Where is Needle?"

"Under the mattress."

Jon nodded at her instruction and knelt beside the bed, picking the mattress up with one hand and groping along the wodden frame with his free hand. He pulled his hand out with a long, thin cloth bundle clasped in his fist. He laid the bundle on top of the mattress before he unwrapped it, uncovering the shining steel beneath.

"You have the belt on?"

"Yeah."

Jon nodded and carefully picked Needle up by the hilt, walking to Arya slowly and deliberately with the pointy end pointed back at himself. He gently slid Needle into it's sheath on her belt and stepped back, looking Arya over from head to toe. He sighed and extended his left hand to grab her cloak off the back of a wooden chair without ever taking his eyes off Arya. He tenderly draped it around her shoulders and secured it under her chin before he pulled her into a hug.

"You be careful."

"I will."

"Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise."

"Remember what I told you. Lesson one."

"Stick them with the pointy end."

A sad smile touched Arya's lips as she was released from her brothers embrace. She dared not allow herself to believe she would ever see Jon again, but the prospect of saying a final goodbye was making her eyes sting with tears. Jon reached a gloved hand forward and tousled Arya's hair one last time before he turned abruptly and descended the stairs. With a deep breath, Arya blinked back tears and followed him.

_I am a Stark of Winterfell. I am strong. I can do this._

She repeated her mantra over and over as they crept down the halls to the door. Arya was light on her feet, even big as she was with child. Jon 's boots came down heavily on the floor compared to Arya's soft steps. When they came to the front door, Jon turned to Arya.

"You know what to do?"

"Yes."

"Then go. Quickly now. You keep moving and you don't look back until you get to White Harbor. You don't trust anyone. You don't tell anyone who you are. You stay off the road. You-"

"Jon, I'll be ok."

"I know. Now go."

Jon stood watch with a sad smile on his face as Arya yanked the heavy door open and stepped out into the cold. Without looking back for fear of crying, Arya closed the door behind her and stepped out into the snow. The walk across the courtyard was short, but it chilled Arya to her bones all the same. The icy wind bit at her cheeks and nose and eyes and made her squint against it. With her vision impaired so, Arya was startled when Gendry's face became visible only a few feet away from her own.

"Gendry."

"Are you ready?"

Arya nodded slightly, and with that Gendry turned and started walking away at a pace that made Arya run so she could keep him in sight. They ran for under a minute, with the only discernable sounds being the muffled sound of their footsteps, the steady rhythm of their breath, and the howl of the wind. Then, a voice as smooth as silk and deadly as poison was in her ear with the warmth of breath defrosting her chilled ear.

"A girl should not tax herself so."

Arya's hand flew to Needle at her hip, but the man was faster and placed both of his hands squarely on both of her hips. He turned her gently to face him, his handsome face only a few inches from Arya's face.

"Let me go."

"A girl need not worry."

His hands retreated from her hips and the man bowed deeply before her.

"Who are you?"

"A man."

"Your _name_, you stupid."

"A girl can call a man Jaqen, if she so chooses."

Arya frowned at the man and opened her mouth to retort, but Gendry's hand firmly grasping her arm made her shut her mouth.

"We'll have time for pleasantries when we're safe. Let's go."

Arya grimaced, but nodded. Gendry was right, she knew. They had only a sliver of time that Jon had secured for them, and if they didn't move swiftly they would miss their chance. So they moved as quietly and quickly as they could manage without speaking until they were riding south with the wall receding behind them. Jon had only managed to get them one horse, which Arya was seated on, despite her protests. Gendry had been sent to Eastwatch, Arya had never existed, and Jaqen had escaped in the dead of the night with one of the horses, or so the men of the Night's Watch would believe.

With dawn fast approaching and no time to rest, Arya settled into the saddle of the grey horse and kept her gaze straight ahead until she was blind to the world around her.

* * *

Gendry had never wanted to hit a person more than he wanted to hit Jaqen H'ghar. He wanted to slap the smug grin right off his pretty face most of the time. This was no exception. He sullenly bit into a chunk of stale bread and turned his blue eyes on the pair across from him, feeling very invisible. Arya's laughter rang out in the cool morning air like music, echoing off the leaves and mixing with the babble of a stream by their camp.

"You're lying. An entire bear?"

"A man would never lie to a girl."

Gendry sneered. There was that stupid smile of his again. Gendry set down his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He stood, stretching his stiff legs out, and walked over to the stream only a few feet away from the log Arya and Jaqen were breaking fast on. He plunged his hands into the icy water and splashed some onto his face, washing off the grime from a night of sleeping in the dirt. They were only a day's walk away from the harbour they would sail from, but Gendry took little comfort in that. He was less than thrilled to be stuck in tight quarters with the man.

_At least he's kept Arya distracted._

Gendry grimaced and plunged his head into the water, willing the cold water to wash his memories and pain away. Arya hadn't mentioned that night, and he wasn't about to, but he could hardly stand the tension between them. Gendry pulled out of the water abruptly, gasping and shaking the water out of his hair. He pulled his shirt up and wiped his face off before he shook his har out again and returned to the little camp.

"We should get moving."

Arya looked up and a smile left her steely grey eyes. She nodded slightly and planted a hand firmly on the log to push herself up. She grew larger every day, and Gendry could see the pain she was in etched onto her face. However, she never so much as uttered a complaint. She was a Stark, after all, and she was stronger than Gendry had ever thought. Before Gendry could move to help her up, Jaqen had her hands in his and was murmuring something, all silk and honey and charm.

Gendry bit back the urge to punch the man, and turned his back on them to saddle the horse. It wasn't until he felt a hand, soft against his shoulder, that he realized how tense he was. He turned slowly to face Arya, working hard to keep his face neutral.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"We're almost there."

"Mm."

"Gendry, don't be mad at me. I need you."

Gendry sighed and brought his hands up to rub his eyes. He was no match for those puppy eyes of hers, so he didn't dare to look into them. He cleared his throat and fidgeted about, and willed words to come.

"C'mon, I'll help you up."

_You right git. She'll hate you by the end of this._

Gendry mentally kicked himself and turned his back to Arya so he wouldn't have to see her expression. For a moment, they were both still. Then Arya moved in front of him to the horse, and Gendry gently lifted her up into the saddle. When the rest of their meagar supplies were collected, the three of them set off.

"Jaqen, tell me about Braavos."

"What does a girl wish to know?"

"What's the food like?"

Jaqen chuckled and launched into a description, and Gendry tuned them both out. He kept his silence and walked brusquely beside the horse, greatful that it separated him from Jaqen. He knew he wouldn't be able to control his temper much longer, especially if he called Arya 'lovely girl' again.

They could have been riding for an hour or a week, and Gendry would not have known the difference. Each second that he had to listen to Jaqen's smooth voice and Arya's laughter went by agonizingly slow.

"You have so many stories, Jaqen... You must have been _everywhere_ by now."

Gendry bit back the urge to gag. She didn't sound like Arya anymore, Gendry decided. She was trying to torture him.

"Not everywhere, lovely girl. A man has been many places, but not everywhere."

Gendry scoffed. She wasn't _his_ lovely girl. With a sinking sensation in his stomach, Gendry realized she wasn't his either. So he just bit the inside of his cheek and kept walking, one foot in front of the other.

* * *

_I could kill you for that, man. I don't have pet names._

Arya took a breath to compose herself and resisted the urge to kick Jaqen in the crotch after the third time he called her 'lovely girl' in the past hour. When they had reached the town, she was so happy to see people again that she all but forgot her anger towards both of her companions. That was short lived, however, as the ship was not set to depart until the next day, and they had only enough coin for one room at a questionable inn.

The room was bare, save for a straw mattress with a wool blanket thrown haphazardly on top, and a small wooden table with a wooden chair in the corner. Arya laid her pack down on the bed and turned to look at the two men.

"Do we have enough for a hot meal?"

Gendry looked up and shrugged.

"We have enough for you to have one."

"You don't need to baby me, Gendry. I'm not a princess, I can-"

"Do we have to do this every time we eat? Just take-"

"A man will take care of the food."

Arya and Gendry both spun on their heels to look at Jaqen, surprised to be torn out of their argument like that. Jaqen smirked at them and went to the door.

"A man will be back with food. A girl should talk to a boy, so they may stop their pointless bickering, no?"

With that, he ducked out of the room and closed the door noiselessly behind him, leaving Arya and Gendry standing there with their mouths hanging open dumbly. Arya blinked a few times, and then turned back to Gendry, scowling. She turned then, and turned back to the bed so she could get Needle out of it's hiding place. She laid it carefully down on the bed before she turned back to Gendry.

"What's your problem? Did I do something to you that you hate me now?"

Gendry's face softened and Arya looked at him for the first time. His face was specked with dirt and grime from travel, his eyes worn and aged with dark half-circles under them. He looked older than his twenty years, much older than he had ever seemed before.

"Arya, I could never hate you."

"Are you mad that I wouldn't-"

"No."

He answered so quickly it startled her, making a blush creep over her face for some reason she was unsure of.

"Oh. Sorry."

"I just-... I don't like him."

"Jaqen? Is that what this is about, then?" A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Are you _jealous_, Gedry?"

Now Gendry was blushing, his face painted red all the way to the tips of his ears. His mouth hung open for a second, until he started sputtering for a response.

"What? Me? I-, er, no, I mean, not that you're not-... I mean, no, don't be..."

Gendry looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, cleared his throat and fell into silence. Arya bit back a laugh. This whole time, he had been being so stuipid over _Jaqen_? She brought a hand up and placed it gently on the side of his face, turning it gently so he would look at her. Not for the first time, she found herself lost in those blue eyes of his. Suddenly the words that had been on the tip of her tongue were gone, lost along with the anger she had felt only a moment ago. She stood up on her toes, straining to reach his height. He ducked his head slowly, and their lips came together in silent understanding. She held him only a moment before she fell down to her normal height and he rose to his, both of them smiling at the sweetness of the moment.

"You need a bath. You stink."

Gendry laughed at her statement, leaning down to sniff at her.

"And you think you smell of roses, is that it?"

Arya laughed too, planting her hands on his chest to give him a playful shove back. Not a moment later she caught him by his hands and pulled him back to her, laying her head against his chest. She looked up at him, keeping her cheek pressed against the fabric of her shirt, and smiled sweetly at him.

"You're so stupid, Gendry. You know that?"

"I try my best, milady."

"Do _not_ call me milady."

She shoved him back again, sending them both into another fit of laughter. And for a moment, they could both just be happy and laugh about nothing and forget the road before them.

When Jaqen returned, he had an entire loaf of fresh bread, a small clay pot filled with honey, a meat pie, and a large chunk of cheese.

"How did you manage that?"

Gendry gaped at him as he easily set the food down on the small wooden table. Jaqen smiled and shrugged and turned to Arya, extending an apple to her that he had seemingly pulled out of thin air.

Arya grinned at him and took the apple, barely bothering to wipe the dirt off it before she sunk her teeth into it's sweet flesh with a satisfying crunch. Jaqen smiled and winked at her, so quickly she would have missed it had she blinked, and turned back to the feast before them.

"How did you buy that all?"

"A boy is not so bright."

Jaqen smirked and tore off a heel of bread, slathered it with honey, and took a bite. Arya laughed, sending bits of apple flying across the room before she covered her mouth.

"Just eat, Gendry. Never mind where it came from."

At her command, Gendry tore off a chunk of bread and sat on the floor, eating slowly and deliberately. Arya rolled her eyes and tore into her apple. Jaqen told them a story about a woman who could fold herself into a trunk, and they ate in good spirits for the first time during the journey. When it came time for bed, Arya was given the mattress without any comment. Gendry and Jaqen laid their bed rolls out on the cold wood floor and settle into their beds after a brief exchange of 'goodnight's.

Arya sank into a deep sleep almost immediately, thanking the Gods for a mattress and a roof and hot food and Gendry and her baby and even Jaqen. In the morning they would abandon all of their new comforts and dive into the unknown, but for that night, with Needle in arm's reach, Arya slept easily and dreamt happy dreams.


	10. Sweet Dreams

**A/N: Hi, guys. I really wanted to get a chapter out, but I just haven't had the time. My husband and I just moved, and we've been working like mad the past few days to get the nursery ready and baby proof the rest of the house. To make up for it, I'm going to give you some short fluff to tide you over... And I also posted a second GendryxArya story I've been working on for a while. If you chould check that out and let me know what you think, I would be eternally grateful Anyway, don't hate me, I promise I'll have a proper chapter out soon enough. Believe me, you're going to want the fluff back when I get around to writing what I mean to. Anyway! Enjoy a healthy serving of fluff, and review!**

_Arya would not have woken, had it not been for the warm breeze that rolled in through the open window by her bed and lifted the silk sheet slightly from her body. When the wind died down, the sheet settled down against her bare skin, soft and light and smelling of the ocean. Arya rose, allowing the silk sheet to fall back against the bed in gentle flutters. She crossed the floor to the window, letting the sunlight bathe her pale, bare skin. The beach outside the house was glittering white in the sunlight, the ocean a brilliant blue against it's pale sands. Another gentle breeze came, rustling the leaves of the tall trees and filling the room with the scent of saltwater and summer._

_A warm hand curled around Arya's rib cage, but did not startle her. Her eyes slid closed and she slowly leaned back until the smooth skin of her back came into contact with his bare chest. His skin was hot against hers, like it always was. She was ice and he was fire, and she was so close to melting it hurt._

_His hand gently moved forward, tracing her ribs until it found her stomach. The muscles of her stomach were chiseled and prominent, but just under the skin, as with the rest of her slender body. His hand inched up slightly and a soft sigh escaped Arya's lips. His hand moved up to cup her flesh and his lips found their way to the soft skin on the side of her neck._

_"Come back to bed."_

_Arya smiled a little, turning slowly to face him, but she could not see his face. He turned too, letting his hand trail down her arm and took hers in his own. He tugged her gently, pulling her back to the bed. She followed willingly, a hunger growing in the pit of her stomach. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her tenderly into his lap. He kissed her lips, her jaw, her neck. He kissed down to the smooth, flat skin of her stomach._

_Another breeze rolled in, but this time Arya shivered._

_"Wait,"_

_She heard her voice in the words, but her mouth was numb and dry. Something seemed suddenly very wrong. She pushed him away and jumped to her feet, crossing her arms over her bare chest. Her feet groped numbly along the floor until she was pressed flat against the wall. She spun around to jump out the window, but the window was gone, leaving only a smooth pale yellow wall in it's place._

_She put a hand on her stomach in sudden realization and spun around to face the man._

_"Where is my baby?"_

_Her voice shook the walls, making them splinter and fall around the couple. The wind howled then, whipping at her hair and making her eyes sting. The man laughed, a low, throaty chuckle and walked over to Arya._

_"A girl should not be afraid."_

Arya awoke with a scream stuck in her throat and her clothes plastered to her skin with sweat. Before she could even open her eyes, Gendry was in the bed, holding her to his warm chest. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of metal and pine cones, and placed a hand on her swollen stomach. She opened her eyes a crack and looked around them. The room in the inn was just as it had been when they went to bed, except that her companions were both awake and staring at her the way you would stare at a baby bird with a broken wing.

"I'm fine."

Her voice was rough, like she hadn't spoken in days. She closed her eyes again, burying her face against Gendry's chest. He said nothing more, only wrapped his arms around her and laid back against the bed with her and kept the nightmares away as she drifted back into a fitful sleep.

**A/N: I realize this can barely be called a chapter, but oh well. It's something! See you soon (hopefully), with a real chapter! **


	11. Valar Morghulis

**A/N: Don't hate me.**

"A boy must hurry."

Gendry sneered at Jaqen's harsh whisper as he disentangled himself from Arya's grip. The sun had not yet come up, and a cool chill hung in the air. Gendry gently pulled the blankets up around Arya's shoulders, hesitating at the side of the bed for a moment to make sure that she would remain asleep. When Arya did not stir, Gendry quickly padded over to the door, barefoot, and slipped his feet into his boots. Jaqen tossed him his shirt and Gendry pulled it on as Jaqen opened the door and slithered noiselessly out. Gendry did his best to do the same, but his feet were clumsy and loud compared to Jaqen's, and the door shut too heavily behind him.

When he looked up, Jaqen was already rounding the corner of the hallway to descent the steps. Gendry exhaled sharply, fighting to keep his impatience with the man in check. With one last glance back at the door to their rented room, Gendry walked brusquely down the worn wooden hallway. He caught up with Jaqen at the bottom of the stairs, and both of them ignored the offers of a hot breakfast (at a fair price!) from the owner of the inn. No, they had much to do and little time to do it. Breakfast could wait. They broke out through the front door of the inn and stepped out into the cool early morning air. Gendry pulled his sleeves roughly down over his hands to fight the chill in his fingers and watched his breath form in a white puff before his face. The air was thick with the smell of saltwater and fish, but Gendry had smelled worse. People were already milling about the town, making their way to the markets or to the docks.

"Which way is it?"

"A boy should keep quiet and let a man lead."

"My name is Gendry. And I'm _not_ a boy."

"Girl then?"

Gendry felt the blood rush to his face.

"That's not what I-"

"A man knows what a boy meant. A man does not care. A boy will be quiet and follow now."

With that, Jaqen turned to his left and walked casually among the townspeople, leaving Gendry trailing behind and seething with anger. Still, he followed the man through the strings of people and chilly morning air, until they came to a little spice shop wedged between a fish stand and a bakery. A small, elderly woman stood in front of the shop patiently. Her skin was a dark olive, worn and wrinkled and leathery. Her deep brown eyes were surprisingly wide and alert for a woman of her age, scanning the crowd tirelessly. On her head she wore a bright purple scarf that covered most of her wiry black hair. She was dressed head to toe in silks of every colour of the rainbow, down to the purple woven basket she carried on her left arm.

"Valar Morghulis."

Gendry frowned at Jaqen, not understanding the words he had said to the woman. He had never even heard them before, though he had met men from all around the seven kingdoms in King's Landing.

"Valar Dohaeris."

The small woman bowed slightly to Jaqen, who said something to a woman in a language of silk and honey that flowed from his mouth as naturally as water. The woman replied with only a few words before Jaqen offered her his arm and the woman wrapped her long fingers tightly around his wrist for support. Gendry caught Jaqen's eyes, and the man winked at him before they set off back towards the inn. Jaqen chatted idly to the woman in their silken tongue, and Gendry just hoped she was as skilled as Jaqen had lead him to believe.

When they returned to the inn, Jaqen ducked inside the splintered wooden door and left Gendry standing outside with the elderly woman. The sun was up then, and the streets were slowly filling up with laughing children and fishermen and women going about their business. Gendry turned as the old woman laid a hand on his arm and cleared her throat.

"You are... brother?"

Gendry hesitated, narrowing his eyes at her broken version of the Common Tongue.

"Who's brother?"

"Girl."

"_What_ girl?"

The door to the inn busted open then, and out came Arya in a whirl of silk and curses. Gendry bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh as he looked her over. She was dressed similarly to the elderly woman, in a loose purple and pink silk dress with a brightly coloured scarf over her messy hair. The dress easily fit over her swollen belly and stopped at her ankles to show off silver sandals. She wore a thick silver cuff around her left bicep, and two thin silver bracelets around her right wrist.

"Dont you _dare_ say anything."

Gendry met Arya's eyes and bit back a smile.

"You look...nice. Like a girl."

Arya brought a hand up to smack his arm, her bracelets clinking together as she did. Jaqen emerged from the inn then, a smug smile on his face. He carried Arya's bag in his left hand, and he held his right arm out for Arya to take. Grudgingly, Arya gripped his arm and gave him a sweet smile that made Gendry want to laugh all over again.

Jaqen cleared his throat then, and said something to Arya in his liquid language that Arya only nodded at before she turned and smiled at the elderly woman and repeated the greeting he had heard Jaqen give earlier. The woman smiled at Arya and bowed slightly, saying 'Valar Dohaeris'. Gendry resolved to learn what they were saying, especially if Arya already understood. He didn't like the idea of Jaqen and Arya having hushed conversations in their strange language without Gendry ever being the wiser.

"Boy, take this."

Gendry blinked, turning to face Jaqen, who was holding Needle out.

Gendry made a face at the small sword, but took it anyway. Having the thin Braavosi sword made for Arya's small hands would be better than being unarmed, at least. He tucked the sword into his belt, and the four of them were off. Few people even bothered to give the group a second glance. The people of the town were used to foreigners coming through with their trading ships. Pale as Arya was, with her scarf pulled low and her colourful attire, she could pass as just another Braavosi passing through.

The walk to the ship would only take a few minutes- Gendry and Jaqen had tested it to ensure they would reach the ship in time. However, they only got halfway before a woman's scream echoed through the street. At first, Gendry kept walking and kept his head down. It wasn't his business, whatever was happening to that one woman. Arya was his only business.

And then, more screams.

Gendry turned just in time to see the flowing red and gold banners before a sword swung at his head. Gendry ducked and turned to see Jaqen easily sweep Arya into his arms. She clung to his neck and her eyes caught Gendry's for only a moment before Jaqen rushed away, the elderly woman keeping up surprisingly well for her age. Gendry pulled Needle from his belt, but before he could swing the sword, a searing pain on the back of his leg sent him sprawling out on the ground.

_I'm so sorry, Arya._

His head bounced off the rocky ground with a sickening crunch, and the last thing he saw was a horde of shiny silver and gold and blood red.

* * *

Arya wanted to scream, but the sound died in her throat. Screaming would not save him. Screaming would not bring him back from the dead. So instead, she turned her cold grey eyes from the scene and focused on the corded muscle of Jaqen's neck, the blood pulsing through his veins just below his skin. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving as he bounded up the ramp to the ship. Arya knew she should feel afraid or sad, but the only thing she felt was numb. There was screaming and the song of steel against steel; so much noise that it all became one wall of sound to Arya's ears. An arrow cut through the air only inches from Jaqen's head, but he did not falter. A hand shoved Jaqen roughly through an open door, and the wall of sound receded quietly as Jaqen made his way down a slanted wooden ladder. Arya focused on the rhythm of his breath, until another wooden door shut behind them.

"Is a girl hurt?"

Arya tried to answer, but the words died in her throat just as the scream had. She felt Jaqen lay her down on a mattress that scratched her arms and hurt her back, but it was a bed all the same. Jaqen repeated his question, kneeling beside the bed and inspecting Arya's body for any signs of injury. His face grew blurry and Arya could feel sleep tugging at her, luring her into it's grasp. Arya closed her eyes, just as a wave of pain hit that made a strangled scream escape from Arya's lips.

"What is it? What is hurt? Lovely girl, what is it?"

Arya heard Jaqen say something in the tongue native to Braavos, and the elderly Braavosi woman Jaqen had told her was a midwife stepped into sight. Arya closed her eyes and gritted her teeth until the pain passed, and did not open her eyes again. Instead, she floated, barely hearing Jaqen's urgent voice and the midwife's calming, meaningless words. She vaguely felt the womans hands, warm and soft like worn leather against her skin. She heard and obeyed, but did not understand as they tore at her new silk dress and small clothes. Pain came and went and came again, but Arya was only vaguely aware of it. She heard screams from time to time that must have been from her, but she never felt them leaving her throat. Even though the cabin was uncomfortably cool, Arya was somewhat aware that the sheets on the mattress were soaked through with her sweat, and her thighs were sticky and hot with something Arya knew could only be blood.

"Fight! Fight, lovely girl! _Push_!"

And so, Arya did. A pain greater than anything she had ever felt before washed over Arya, making her feel like she would rip in half right there. Mad as she was with her pain, there could have been thirty pink ravens flying around the room and she wouldn't have noticed. The only thing Arya was acutely aware of was the pain. It was all she could do to squeeze her eyes shut and give one last push before the darkness swallowed her up.

* * *

_"Awake, lovely girl. Twins. Open your eyes, lovely girl."_

Arya felt as if she were submerged under water, being held just below the surface. She could see the light, just above the water line, but it was just out of reach. She strained against her chains until her wrists and ankles were rubbed raw and bleeding, but she still could not reach the precious air only inches away. The words floated around Arya, muffled and obscured by the murky water, dancing through her mind like ghosts. A hand plunged through the surface of the water, sending ripples through the still water. It wrapped strong, tanned fingers around her wrist and pulled with all it's might.

_Gendry. Gendry has come to save me from drowning._

Arya broke through the surface, gasping and sputtering for air. Her hair was soaked through and plastered to her hair, and the bed was uncomfortably damp, but not from water. Slowly, reluctantly, Arya opened her eyes a crack and hoped for it all to be a dream. The light in the cabin was blinding after so long in darkness, and Arya squeezed her eyes shut again. The darkness beckoned to her, welcoming her like an old friend. _Come_, it said, _Come and rest._

"Open your eyes, lovely girl."

The words were sharper this time, pleading. Arya tried to find the strength to push the words away, but that had long since abandoned her. Her body betrayed her, limp and useless and dying. She sunk deeper into her mind, tasting the peace and tranquility of letting go.

"A lovely girl will open her eyes and see her children. A lovely girl will fight. _Fight, Arya!"_

_Why fight? Death is so sweet. What do I have to fight for? My father is gone. Robb, Jon, Sansa, Rickon, Bran, they're probably gone too. My mother, too. Nymeria is gone. Syrio is gone. The butchers boy, Septa Mordane, Jory... Gendry... There's no one left._

Then, a sharp cry cut through the darkness and gripped Arya around the throat. It pulled and pulled and pulled until Arya was gasping for air as the darkness receded around her. Arya threw open her eyes, and the light burned them mercilessly, but she barely noticed it. As the cabin swam into view, the first thing Arya saw was Jaqen H'ghar kneeling at her bedside. The man was covered in blood and sweat and grime, and lines were etched into his forehead. A slow, giddy smile broke out across Jaqen's face as Arya slowly propped herself up on her elbows. Her head was swimming, and her throat was so dry she was certain she would never be able to speak again. In a flash, Jaqen was holding a skin of water up to her lips, tipping it back and letting the cool liquid drip onto her dry, cracked lips. Water had never tasted so sweet to Arya before then, and she opened her mouth and drank greedily. When she swallowed the last gulp of water and Jaqen laid the skin down, Arya became aware of another presence in the room.

The elderly Braavosi woman stood at the foot of Arya's bed, her silk headscarf around her neck and her wiry black curls piled into a bun at the top of her head. Her clothes were ruined, stained with blood and sweat. In her arms she held two bundles of stained white cloth that were making a good deal of noise. The woman was humming to the bundles, rocking slowly from side to side until their fussing ceased.

"Twins, lovely girl. A girl and a boy."

Arya blinked a few times, allowing herself a moment to process the scene around her. Too quickly, she tried to sit up. A pain shot through her body from between her thighs, making tears sting at Arya's eyes. Jaqen laid a hand on her shoulder and pressed her back against the bed gently.

"A girl must rest. A girl lost much blood."

"My..."

The Braavosi woman took a few slow steps toward Arya, and sat gently at the edge of the bed. With Jaqen's help, she transferred the bundles of cloth into Arya's arms. Almost nervously, Arya looked down on the faces of her babes. Which was the boy and which was the girl was impossible to tell from their faces. Their skin was so pale it was almost translucent, showing a web of blue veins below their skin. Their little eyes were shut, and their chests rose and fell rhythmically beneath their dirty cloth blankets. Thick black hair poked out from the blankets covering the tops of their hair, thick and sticky with blood. They were fragile and beautiful and hers.

"A woman asks what you will call them."

Arya hesitated, studying their little pale faces for a moment. The babe in her left arm opened it's eyes and peered up at her curiously with eyes as grey as steel. There were Starks by blood, if not by name.

"Which is the boy?"

Jaqen motioned towards the bundle on the left; the one who was looking up at Arya. For a moment, Arya was silent, thinking. Then she took a breath. She had always known their names, in truth.

"Eddard... And Lyanna."

Jaqen inclined his head slightly in response, and propped his elbows up on the edge of the bed. He laced his hands together under his chin, watching Arya closely. Arya looked down at her children and willed the horror show in her mind to cease. Over and over, she saw Gendry falling to the ground, falling and dying because of her. Arya's throat tightened and tears stung at her eyes, which she slid shut as a memory came over her.

_"Promise you'll never leave me."_

_The little camp had been set up in a cramped forest, and snow fell heavily around them. Jaqen had been off trying to find food for over an hour, and the sun had set on them, taking with it the only shred of warmth left in the barren forest. Arya huddled under a blanket with Gendry, shivers racking her body._

_"Why would I ever leave you?"_

_Their breath formed in white puffs before their faces, only inches apart from each other. Gendry ran a hand up and down her up, trying to warm her up. Arya rubbed her foot on his leg in an attempt to return feeling to her toes._

_"Just promise me. Promise you'll never leave me alone, no matter what."_

_"What if I have to fight someone?"_

_"Gendry, promise me."_

_Gendry rested his forehead against hers, the tips of their numb, red noses touching. He was quiet for a moment, pulling her closer to his body. Arya closed her eyes, savoring the warmth his body radiated out against her own._

_"I promise."_

Arya forced her eyes open and the memories back. Tears were threatening to spill down her face then, and she refused to cry. Not in front of Jaqen H'ghar and a stranger. Instead, Arya looked down at the babes again, studying their little features. Arya was too little to remember what Bran looked like at birth, but her babes looked just like Rickon had. Their faces were so sweet and innocent that it hurt to think of what their lives would be like.

"They're so small."

"This woman says that is normal for twins." Jaqen nodded towards the Braavosi woman, who bowed her head slightly.

"Will they live?"

Jaqen did not answer at first, only shifted uncomfortably beside her.

"This, a man cannot answer. The Red God takes what life he wants... The woman says they have come too early, their cries are too weak... A man cannot answer your question."

"Will _I _live?"

"A girl must rest."

Arya didn't need to be told twice; her mind and body could not handle any more stress. She laid her head back against a lumpy, damp pillow and drifted off to a fitful sleep with the comforting warmth of her babes against her chest.


	12. The Titan of Braavos

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm so so so so so so so sorry about the delay- I was slightly preoccupied having a baby. I went into labour last Sunday, and the baby was born Monday morning. She's perfectly healthy and I can attest to the strength of her lungs from the volume of her crying. Anyway, I have a fairly serious heart condition that caused them to keep me in the hospital for about a week. My husband and I spent Valentines day in the hospital (we also spent our anniversary in the hospital when my husband broke his jaw playing hockey), and we just got home Saturday night. So, I know a lot of you are pretty upset at me for my last chapter, and probably for this one too... but be patient, my doves. This was originally one massive chapter that was over 8000 words, so I had to find a spot to split it up, which is why this chapter is on the short side. Forgive me, I have the other bits already written so they should be out around tomorrow. But, ha, don't hold me to that... Enough of this- enjoy!**

_"Come, lovely girl. I will teach you our tongue. And when you are well enough, you will learn the water dance again. Would this please a lovely girl? Come. Open your eyes. Open your eyes, Arya. Arya... Arya!"_

"I'm not Arya anymore."

Her voice was rough and broken, and was lost to the empty space of the cabin. _Just a dream_, she told herself. When Jaqen had said those words to her the first time, she opened her eyes, he helped her out of bed, and they went up to the deck of the ship. The air was crisp and smelled like salt and fish, but Arya sucked it in greedily all the same. Wind had whipped at Arya's face, sending her hair flying about her gaunt face. A week had passed in that godforsaken cabin, and she had barely eaten the whole time. Arya had pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders, and Jaqen had walked her to the railing.

'Cast all of Arya Stark's problems into the ocean, lovely girl. Be rid of them, and be free.'

Arya had laughed, a bitter, choked laugh at that. How could she just forget? Gendry was first, and she hadn't even been able to say goodbye to him. Images of him falling to the ground at the hands of a man in a red cloak danced behind her eyes. Her little Lyanna had been next. She was the smaller of the two, the midwife had warned her, she won't live long. Arya had been stupid; believed she could save her frail little baby girl. But she couldn't, and Lyanna died peacefully in her sleep. Arya held her cold, fragile little body in her arms, close to her chest, and wailed a sound known only to a grieving mother. For the majority of the day, she had been inconsolable. She had wanted a proper funeral for her, but they wouldn't reach land for another three weeks. Instead, they had sewn Lyanna's tiny, grey body up in a scrap of rough cloth and Arya's darling baby girl had dropped to rest at the bottom of the ocean.

At first, Arya had wanted nothing more than to jump into the ocean after her daughter and find peace. The midwife told her that her son would live no longer than a week, her daughter was dead, Gendry was dead, all of Arya's family was probably dead as well. The first few days after Lyanna's passing, Arya would have welcomed death as an old friend, if Jaqen H'ghar had let her. But he hadn't, and Arya vowed to live- if only as long as her Eddard did. She could manage that, at least.

Each day she grew stronger, and her son with her. Each day the midwife still warned her of his imminent death, but each day she did so with less conviction. Jaqen taught her Braavos' version of low Valyrian, and her vocabulary grew with her strength. He taught her all he knew about Braavosi history and culture, how to greet people, how to speak to her higher ups. When she was strong enough to hold a sword in her hand, he walked through different movements of the water dance with her- albeit slowly. Every day she spent her time with Jaqen H'ghar on the warm, sunny deck of the boat until her muscles ached and her skin was burnt and peeling. She savored the ache in her muscles and her stinging skin, and viewed them as trophies for her hard work. The pain of Arya's memories and losses never left, but with each small victory she won on the ship, they moved slowly but surely to the back of her mind.

A knock on the heavy wooden door of the cabin snapped Arya's attention back to the present. Before she could respond Jaqen stepped into the little wooden room, with a long cloth bundle in his hands.

"The sun is about to rise. A girl should wash and get dressed. A man has a surprise."

Arya eyed the package in his hands curiously while she pushed herself up to sit on the lumpy straw mattress.

"What is it?"

"If this man said, it would no longer be a surprise."

Arya sneered at him and rose unsteadily to her feet, using a notch in the wall as leverage. Her muscles ached, and a dull pain still shot from between her legs when she moved too suddenly.

"A man will be waiting on the deck."

"Fine."

Arya waited for Jaqen to leave before she stripped off her dirty white shift and crossed the room to a pail of room temperature water in the corner. She took a scrap of cloth hanging over the side of the pail and dunked it in the water before she stood and sluiced water over the top of her head. Though the water wasn't hot and she had no soap, scrubbing the dirt off her skin with the rough cloth felt better than being dirty. Arya ran the cloth gently down her stomach, over the small, awkward bump that still protruded beneath the skin at the bottom of her belly. The midwife had promised that would go away in time, and it had `diminished greatly in size. Arya still wished it would go away faster.

With one final rinse, Arya stepped away from the pail and walked to the trunk at the end of the bed. She pulled the latches up and opened the creaky wooden lid before she pulled out her small clothes, black cotton trousers, and a thin white cotton shirt that had been cut off at the sleeves. The closer they got to Braavos, the hotter and stickier the air became. Arya put her clothes on quickly, tied her hair back, and crossed her room to the wooden crate at the end of her bed. The box could barely be called a cradle, but it worked well enough to hold Eddard while he slept. Arya and the midwife, who Arya learned was called Isri, had lined the crate with thick wool blankets for padding.

Arya peered over the edge of the crate, pausing for a moment to watch the rise and fall of her son's tiny chest. He grew stronger each minute, and Arya couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her little baby boy. Carefully, Arya reached into the crate and scooped him up into her arms. He was wrapped in a thin cotton blanket that covered everything but his little pale face and the frontmost of his thick black curls. Arya tucked Eddard close to her body and left the cabin barefoot. She barely made a sound as she padded through the wooden underbelly of the ship. When she broke the surface, warm sunlight and a gust of warm, salty air greeted her. Arya spotted Isri sitting in the shade mending one of Eddard's blankets. She walked quietly over to the woman, who smiled up at her and greeted her in low Valyrian. Arya returned her greeting clumsily, always searching for the right words in her broken version of their tongue. Isri smiled at Arya and corrected her gently as she took Eddard from Arya's arms.

"Come, lovely girl."

Arya looked to her left, where Jaqen was leaning back against the thick wooden railing of the ship. In his right hand he held his own sword, and in his left he held another. Shorter, thinner, and much more beautiful. The sight of it sent a pang of sadness through her, as it reminded her so much of her lost Needle and her old life.

"A present for a lovely girl."

Jaqen tossed the sword up and caught it deftly by the tip of the blade, extending it out to Arya hilt first. Hesitantly, Arya stepped forward and gripped the hilt firmly in her hand. She extended her arm, testing the weight and balance of the sword. Arya let her eyes slide closed and let a smile spread over her face. The sword was perfect: Valyrian steel, expertly made, and small and sharp and deadly, just like her.

"Jaqen, it's-"

"Do not thank this man. A girl has earned it. We begin now. How is _sword_ called?"

Arya settled into a fighting stance and racked her brain for the word, and thus began their daily routine. Jaqen had told her that they would arrive that very day, and Arya couldn't help but feel anxious at the thought of what the future would hold. Jaqen had brushed her concerns off and told her that he would take care of everything, but Arya was loath to put all of her faith into Jaqen H'ghar- even if he had been nothing but wonderful. By mid-morning, the Titan of Braavos came into view on the horizon, and Arya studied the giant guardian nervously as she nursed Eddard and nibbled at a hard biscuit. Isri sat next to her, in a shady spot on the deck, and chattered idly as she worked on mending Eddard's blankets. Arya barely heard her- she was too busy thinking about what was ahead of them.

When Eddard was finished nursing, Isri took him and hummed softly to him to make him fall asleep. Arya stood and fixed her shirt, and then crossed the deck of the ship to where Jaqen stood against the railing. Arya placed her hands on the splintered wood beside him, leaning out slightly to get a better look at the Titan.

"We will arrive by nightfall."

Arya turned to Jaqen and nodded at his statement, keeping her grip firm on the wooden railing.

"A man will find a place for a lovely girl and her companions to stay for the night."

"What about you?"

"A man must see about if a girl may come home with him."

"Will you be back by morning?"

"A man cannot say. A man hopes to be back to a lovely girl by then, yes."

"Will we be safe where we stay?"

"This a man cannot say either, for certain. A man hopes so. A girl can defend herself, can she not?"

"I can."

Jaqen inclined his head slightly in agreement, and turned his attention back to the horizon.

"A girl should rest. A girl will need her strength."

Arya remained by Jaqen's side for another moment before she turned and walked back to Isri and Eddard. She didn't know what would be ahead of them, but she had the feeling that Jaqen was right about needing her strength.


	13. Blue Winter Rose

**A/N: Ok, before you all pounce on me with your questions- I pinky swear that the next chapter will give you all the answers you need about what happened at White Harbor. Next, I've moved this story to the A Song of Ice and Fire category due to all the spoilers from the books. I know this story is AU, but I'm still pulling vaguely from events in the books. I may not get the next chapter out for a couple of days, as my mum's staying with us to help out with the baby while my husband's at work... Despite my assurances that I will be absolutely fine without her help. Because she is definitely more trouble than she's worth. But I'm going to try to get it out by this weekend. Ok, enjoy, and remember to review!**

"Mummy?"

Arya's eyes snapped open, only to involuntarily shut at the bright sunlight shining in through the open windows. Almost three years had passed in that room, but she still hadn't gotten used to the heat. A sheen of sweat covered her body and made her thin silk small clothes stick to her skin. Arya sank back against her lumpy mattress and allowed herself a moment to collect herself after the nightmare she had just suffered. It was always the same. Always the black haired boy, falling to the ground and smashing his head open. He would sit up then, with blood and grey mush seeping out of his cracked skull, and he would turn his icy blue eyes on Arya and scream the most terrible things at her. The exact words he said varied, but he was always asking the same thing, underneath. Why didn't you come back for me?

_Jaqen took me!_ She wanted to scream at him. _I had no choice. I had to worry about the baby._ But she never could find her voice in the dreams, and she woke up with a pounding heart and sweat plastering her hair to her head. Arya wasn't sure who exactly he was, or if she would have gone back for him if she knew. She wanted to believe she would have fought with him, died with him even, but part of her knew that wasn't true. Arya pushed those thoughts away. It did no good fretting over the past. Jaqen was real and there, and he had whisked her away to Braavos with her remaining child and took her into his home. He had taught her everything she needed to know to become one of them. He had made her forget.

"Mummy!"

Arya opened her eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the sunlight, and pushed herself up to sitting. Eddard stood beside her bed, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. His black hair had grown out some, hanging around his face in lazy curls. His big grey eyes were turned on Arya, waiting less than patiently for her attention. Arya cleared her throat and pushed the hair out of his face. He had picked up the Common Tongue as well as Valyrian, low and high alike, at a surprising rate. Jaqen had hired a tutor for him to learn the history of the free cities, as well as his numbers and letters. He picked up on everything quickly, young as he was, and Arya couldn't help but feel proud about that.

"What're you doing up so early, Ned?"

"Guess what?"

"What?"

Arya swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, raking her fingers through her thick tangled hair to gather it at the back of her head. She tied it back with a scrap of cloth and crossed the room to find clothes for the day. Eddard had dressed himself, she saw, in a bright blue tunic and loose white cotton trousers.

"Jaqen's going to teach me the water dance, just like you. He promised!"

"Did he now?"

Arya smiled a little as she knelt down to rifle through a drawer. After a moment she pulled out loose black breeches and a thin white tunic that had no sleeves. Arya turned to Eddard then, studying his face.

"Did you wash your face? You've got dirt all over. Were you digging in the courtyard again?"

"Mummy, I want to go play!"

"First you'll wash your face, and eat breakfast."

Eddard stomped his foot in protest, but a sharp look from Arya quieted him quickly enough.

"I'm going to go take a bath, you go wash your face off and have breakfast with Isri. I'll ask her if you didn't. Understood?"

Eddard crossed his little arms over his chest and nodded sullenly. Arya rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair as she walked past, out of the little room. It wasn't much, but it was home all the same. The little room contained only her bed and a tall thin chest of drawers. If the room had been big enough, she would have had Eddard's bed in there as well. However, it wasn't, so she settled for him being put in the room directly next to hers. Arya exited the room and left the door open for Eddard before she turned and made her way down the narrow hallway of sleeping cell. Various people greeted her in the traditional Braavosi way as she made her way down the hall towards the room filled with the large baths that were common in the free cities.

Arya ducked into the room and was hit with a wave of moist heat that made it difficult to breathe in the already humid building. Arya scanned the room, eyes flitting from one tub to another. Each tub was large enough to fit eight or nine people, and all of the tubs were empty but one. Arya set her clothes on a counter by the door and shimmied out of her damp small clothes. The steam kissed her naked skin, and despite the heat, goosebumps rose all over her body. She tugged at the ribbon holding her hair up and it fell around her face in waves. Arya turned and walked towards the only occupied tub slowly, careful not to make any sound as she padded along the stone floor.

"A girl has gotten better, but she still has much to learn."

His eyes slid open, drinking her in from the other end of the tub.

"Damn."

A smile touched his lips. He wore Jaqen's face that morning. He always wore Jaqen's face for her, though she had seen him change his face hundreds of times. This face was her favourite, as well as Eddards. So, Jaqen H'ghar lived, if only for Arya and Eddard. Arya tested the water with her toes before she sat on the edge of the tub and slid down into the hot water.

"You told Ned you would teach him the water dance?"

Jaqen inclined his head slightly and reached forward, grasping Arya's wrist under the water. He tugged her gently over to him, pulling her flush against his chest.

"A boy wished to learn."

"You'll be careful, though. If he gets hurt, so will you."

"A girl should have more faith in a man. A man would never hurt a lovely girl's boy."

"Mm. Be careful all the same."

"A girl mustn't worry so much. A man can ease a girl's tensions."

Jaqen pushed Arya's thick hair off of her shoulder and kissed her neck gently, running his hands down the smooth skin of her back.

"Not... Not today. I have to meet with the Kindly Man about an assignment."

Jaqen groaned, but leaned away from Arya, who disentangled herself from his arms carefully and sank down into the water next to him.

"Do you know where I'm going?"

Jaqen nodded slightly.

"Will you tell me?"

"A girl will find out soon enough. A girl must still learn patience, apparently."

Arya rolled her eyes and held her breath before she ducked under the water to get her hair wet. She held herself there until her lungs screamed in protest. Only then did she break the surface of the water, sputtering and gasping for air. She pushed her hair out of her face and reached across Jaqen, grasping the thick bar of soap that smelled like the summer flowers of Braavos. She ran the soap over her skin, leaving a thin bubbly film over her pale skin before she ducked under the water again and rinsed it off. She handed the soap to Jaqen then and moved the sit in front of him. The water came almost to her chin, but she didn't mind. Jaqen worked the soap through her hair, then cupped water in his hands and rinsed her hair out. He worked his fingers through the tangles until her hair hung down her back neatly. Arya turned over her left shoulder and planted a quick kiss on his smooth lips as thanks before she stood, water running off her skin back into the bath. Arya stepped out of the tub, and Jaqen leaned back again, letting his eyes slide shut.

Without saying anything, Arya returned to the counter, dried herself off, and dressed herself. She left her feet barefoot as always, and exited the baths. The warm breeze that greeted her felt nice against her damp skin and hair, and smelled like summer. It _always_ smelled like summer there. For some reason, that seemed significant to her, but the reason why was foggy, like most of her past. Arya pushed away the nagging feeling that she was forgetting something important and tied her hair back away from her face. She had no time for breakfast before the meeting, she had woken up later than she had intended. Arya exited the hallway into the courtyard, letting sunlight bathe her damp skin.

The courtyard was nearly empty that morning, except for two people sparring with dull metal swords in a far corner of the courtyard. Arya walked to the fountain at the center of the yard and stopped to study her reflection in the water. She tried to remember what she used to look like, when she first arrived, but she only had a vague idea. Her tunic was stretched tight over her chest, and her hips had widened slightly, but the rest of her body was lean muscle. The baby fat in her face had melted away, replaced by a sharp, angular face that was pretty in a deadly way. She was a woman grown, that much was plain to see. There were few women in the house, so she commanded the attention of her brothers whenever she entered a room, but she didn't care. She had Jaqen. Arya turned away from the fountain, suddenly uneasy for some reason. Pushing the though away, she pressed on to the designated meeting spot. The Kindly Man would be waiting.

Arya entered the room to find the Kindly man, as well as three other men, already seated at the long wooden table.

"Welcome, sister."

Arya bowed deeply, but remained silent.

The Kindly Man asked briefly about her son and her health before describing her assignment to her. She would go to Dorne, her target was a wealthy merchant. It wouldn't be a particularly difficult assignment, but leaving Eddard always made her nervous. Arya left the meeting room with butterflies in her stomach, and walked back to the courtyard. She found Isri there, as well as Jaqen and Eddard. Isri was sitting in the shade watching Jaqen teach Eddard. Eddard was holding a little wooden sword with a determined look on his face, though his arm was shaking with the effort of holding the sword up. Arya sat down next to Isri and smiled a little as Jaqen knelt down in front of Eddard to adjust his grip on the sword.

"It's too heavy, Jaqen!"

"It is heavy as it needs to be, so you may grow strong."

"Just like you?"

"Just so."

Jaqen smiled and stood up, and Eddard held the wooden sword with a renewed sense of determination. Jaqen slashed at the air and looked at Eddard, instructing him to do the same. Eddard slashed, too hard, and lost his balance. He fell forward, and was about to hit his face into the ground when Jaqen caught him by the back of his shirt.

"This was a good try. A boy will try again, but he will keep his balance this time, yes?"

"Yes, Jaqen."

Eddard got to his feet, tugged the hem of his tunic down, and held the wooden sword out again. He slashed at the air as Jaqen had, wobbled, but quickly regained his balance. Arya grinned, beaming with pride, and clapped for him. Jaqen smiled and reached over to ruffle Eddard's hair.

"A boy is a quick learner, just as his mother is."

That seemed to please Eddard, and he dropped his sword and ran over to hug Arya. Arya scooped him up in her arms and hugged him to her chest, smiling.

"Did I do good, mummy?"

"You were amazing. You'll be able to beat Jaqen soon, I bet."

"You think so?"

"If you work hard, every day."

Eddard grinned and vaulted off her lap then, running back to pick his little wooden sword. Jaqen knelt down next to him and said something that Arya couldn't hear before he stood and walked over to Arya. Eddard slashed away at the imaginary foe before him, and Jaqen took Arya's hands to pull her to her feet.

"Isri, are you ok with him?"

"Yes, yes. Go on."

"See that he eats his lunch."

"Just so, just so."

Arya let Jaqen lead her away then, into the storage room where the practice swords were kept. He kicked the door shut behind them and barred it closed with a heavy wooden chair before he pinned Arya back against the wall.

"When will a girl leave?"

"First thing in the morning."

"A girl does not seem pleased. Is the assignment not to her liking?"

"I just don't like leaving Ned here without me."

"A man will take care of the boy. This, a girl knows."

"Yes, I know. I still worry, though."

"A girl worries too much."

"Yes, you said that already."

Jaqen smirked and leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly against Arya's. He tasted like cinnamon and warmth. Arya let her eyes slide shut, and was immediately assaulted with mental images of the black haired boy. Suddenly and almost violently, Arya shoved Jaqen back away from her. He stumbled back, knocking over a rack of equipment with a crash before he steadied himself. Jaqen looked at Arya in shock for a moment before he managed to compose his features.

"Did a man do something wrong?"

And suddenly, Arya felt ashamed.

"What? No, no... I... I don't know what happened. I'm sorry, Jaqen, I didn't mean to..."

Jaqen held up a hand to silence her and shook his head. He slowly walked towards her, stopping a foot away. He gently picked her hand up and brought it to his lips to place a tender kiss on it.

"A girl does not need to apologize. A man can wait."

Arya stood uncertainly for a moment before Jaqen dropped her hand and stepped back.

"A girl must get to her dancing lessons."

Arya blinked once before she realized what he said. Then she nodded, and moved to unbar the door. Jaqen exited first, holding the heavy wooden door open for her. Arya ducked out of the room quickly, still ashamed at her actions. If Jaqen was angry about it, however, he hid it well. With a wave, Jaqen departed in the opposite direction from her, and she watched his red and white hair bounce lightly against his shoulders until he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Then, Arya turned and made her way to her daily lessons.

The morning went by in a blur, as most of her mornings did. She lost herself in the motions of the water dance, forgetting everything but steel against steel until her teacher would announce that they were done practicing for the day. Arya would skip the afternoon lessons to prepare for her assignment, and she would have skipped lunch as well if she had not already skipped breakfast. However, a sharp pang in Arya's stomach reminded her of her hunger, and she headed to the dining hall with a sheen of sweat clinging to her skin.

"Mummy, mummy!"

Arya spun on the balls of her feet to face Eddard, who was sprinting through the courtyard to reach her. His hair was a tangled mess, and his face was smudged with dirt. He held in his hand a withering blue rose she knew from her studies to be native to the northern regions of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Where's Isri? Why are you all dirty?"

"I met a man at the markets who-"

"The _markets_, Ned? What have I told you about going out to the markets. And _alone_?"

"Mummy," He whined, "Let me finish my story."

"You're in big trouble, Eddard. Wait until I tell Isri where you've been."

"Mummy, _don't_! Please!"

"Well, you'd better have a good reason why you were at the markets."

"I was chasing a cat, but he got away from me and ran through an alleyway to the markets."

"And you just stopped to pick a flower?"

"No, a man gave it to me."

"A man?"

Arya frowned and took the flower from Eddard, turning it over in her hands. It wasn't poisonous from what she could tell, and it posed no immediate danger to either of them, but something about it still made her uneasy.

"I don't know his name, but he said he's from Westeros."

"Westeros?"

"He asked if my mummy's name was Arya Stark. Who's that, mummy?"

Arya hesitated a moment before she forced a smile out and shook her head at Eddard.

"I don't know, Ned."

"What's your name, mummy?"

"Cat, Ned. My name is Cat."

"Why did he think my mummy was Arya Stark, then?"

"I-..."

"He talked funny. Not like you or Jaqen. He only knew the..."

"Common Tongue, it's called. Remember?"

"Oh, right. He only knew the Common Tongue."

"Ned, what did he look like?"

Eddard shrugged and brushed his tangled hair away from his eyes.

"I don't remember. He had blue eyes, though. He asked me to bring him to you, but I said I had to go and he didn't follow me or anything."

Suddenly, Arya's tongue felt dry and useless in her mouth. So she only forced another smile out at Eddard, gave the flower back to him, and turned away from him. As she made her way through the halls, she found herself overwhelmed once again by the nagging feeling that she was forgetting something important.


	14. The Wounded Bull

**A/N: Funny thing about this chapter- I had it edited and ready to go yesterday, and was literally in the middle of posting it when my husband threw up all over our bed. Which has been a lot of fun. New baby, sick husband, and a nagging mother. You'll have to forgive me if I can't get the next chapter out terribly soon. Anyway! I cut out a chapter that was primarily Arya/Jaqen smut so you could get your answers about Gendry. Maybe I'll post it at the end of the story with all of the other things I cut out as a bonus or something. I dunno. Anyway, here you go- enjoy and remember to review!**

"You're going to drown the boy. Ease up, there, there. That's better."

Cool water dripped down Gendry's face, seeping between his lips and soaking the mass of cotton that had replaced his tongue. He dared not open his eyes, the splitting pain radiating down his neck from the back of his head was bad enough with them closed. Carefully, Gendry wiggled his fingers, checking to see that they were still there and working. Satisfied, he wiggled his toes. Only, no, he couldn't.

_My leg!_

Gendry threw his eyes open and shoved himself upright, and the world receded at the edges as it swayed back and forth. Pain erupted from his head and knee simultaneously, disabling even the most animal of screams from escaping Gendry's chapped lips.

"Woah, easy there. Shh. That's it, you rest now."

A hand, soft and gentle, found it's way to Gendry's shoulder and pushed him back against a lumpy, damp mattress. Gendry waited for the pain to recede and opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was too dry for words to come forth, and his lower lip cracked at the movement. Blood trickled down his chin, and Gendry closed his eyes again.

_I am going to die now. Please, let me die now._

"Can you hear me?"

This voice was different than the one that spoke first. This voice was soft and sweet, like bells chiming. Gendry guessed she must be the Mother, coming to give him mercy.

"Do you know your name?"

No, that wasn't the Mother. She would know his name, wouldn't she? Gendry swallowed hard, forcing the lump in his throat down, and shook the thought off. He never had been religious. The voice didn't come back for a while, and eventually Gendry felt cool water dripping over his lips again. Carefully, he parted them, and the water trickled over his cotton tongue and down his dry throat.

"That's it. Shh, rest now. Easy."

"My leg."

Gendry's voice was rough and cracking, and so soft he was sure she hadn't heard. More water filled his mouth, and he swallowed greedily.

"We saved what we could, but infection took most of it. Would have taken your life if we let it."

"My leg..."

"Shh, now. There's time to talk later."

"Leave the boy go, he's delirious with fever. You lay a damp cloth on his forehead and change his bandages, and you leave him be now."

"Yes, m'lady."

The water stopped then, and Gendry felt the cool cloth on his forehead a moment later. Chills racked his body and sent another wave of pain over him. He could feel someone moving at his arm, his stomach, his leg-

_Oh Gods, my leg! Let me die, please, please let me die. No more. No more!_

"Some milk of the poppy I think, Tess. He's like to hurt you and him both, trashing like that. There, that's it."

Warm, chalky liquid seeped down Gendry's throat, and a few moments later, the world went dark.

"I think he's waking up."

"Shush, now. Be a dear and make me some tea, Tess."

"Yes, m'lady."

Gendry opened his eyes a crack, flinching at the noise of the girl leaving. The room was dimly lit, but even so his eyes burned. Slowly, carefully, Gendry propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. The room was small and dark, with no windows. A candle sat on a small wooden table next to his bed, providing the only source of light in the room. The dirt floor was slightly uneven, and the walls were bare.

"Can you hear me, boy?"

Gendry's eyes snapped up. The voice came from directly across the room, where a woman sat hunched over in a white wooden rocking chair. Her silver hair was pinned back neatly into a bun, save for one or two stands that fell into her long, sharp face. Her skin was wrinkled and leathery, and seemed to hang from her bones. She folded her bony hands in her lap and studied Gendry with milky blue eyes.

"Well?"

Gendry opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he nodded slightly.

"Do you remember your name?"

Gendry hesitated, racking his brain for the information.

"That's alright, don't tax yourself."

"How... how long..."

Gendry winced at the scratching sensation the words left in his throat. A weak cough bubbled up and escaped his lips.

"Six days since you woke last. Fourteen since Tess found you."

"Found..."

"Lucky she did, too."

The girl swept back into the room then, the girl he presumed was Tess. Her pale blonde hair fell in loose ringlets down her back, unbound and unstyled. Her skin was fair and her eyes a pale blue. She wore a dress that matched the colour of her eyes. It was plain, rough cotton with a dirty white bodice, but she looked nice all the same. Her feet were bare against the dirt floor, and even with dirt specks on her face, she was graceful and soft and beautiful. She held a dull silver tray with a white glass tea pot and cup on the tray.

"Yes, thank you, dear."

The girl turned her pale blue eyes on Gendry, and a smile lit her face up.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

"Wh..."

"Shush, Tess. You let him rest now. You go get him whatever soup is left now, he needs to eat more than broth."

"My leg..."

"Yes, messy business that was. Tess nearly fainted on me from the blood, when it came time to cut it-"

"Time to _what_?"

"You had an infection, dear."

The old woman's voice softened then. She unfolded and refolded her hands in her lap as she studied Gendry.

"We cleaned the cut, stitched it up, set your bone, bandaged it... but infection still seeped through. We managed to save some of the leg, at least."

Gendry's head reeled, and for a moment he was certain that he would be sick. With a shaky hand, he threw back his blankets, exposing his body. From the waist up he was naked, and on his lower half he wore only his rough cotton trousers, which had been cut off at the middle of thighs. His left arm was bound from elbow to shoulder in a fresh white bandage. His right arm was covered in ugly yellow bruises, like most of his chest. Along his ribs, an angry purple bruise was visible over the top of the bandages wound around his abdomen. Gendry moved his eyes down, his stomach twisting into painful knots. His left leg ended at the knee in a grotesque stump that was covered by fresh bandages that were already stained with blood.

_No no no no no._

Too quickly, Gendry sat up and pain shot down his spine and through his head. For a moment, his vision went dark.

"Easy, easy. I had to sew your head up too, boy. I thought you my not wake. Easy now. There, there. Rest."

Gendry laid back against the damp pillow, swallowing hard to force the bile in his stomach from rising. Tess swept back into the room, carrying a chipped white bowl gingerly in her delicate hands.

"Here, it's not much. Just some broth with bits of meat and potatoes and some celery."

Tess sat on the edge of the bed next to Gendry and scooped up a small spoonful of broth. She held the soon up to Gendry's lips, spilling the warm broth into his mouth. Gendry barely tasted it. He barely noticed she was there, and before long his vision went dark all over again at the pain in his phantom foot.

Two weeks passed like this before Gendry began to regain his strength. Gendry spent all of his time in bed, talking to the old woman and eating soup and sleeping away his pain. It was another week before Gendry had the strength to stand up on his one good foot. He held the frame of the bed for support and balanced awkwardly on his right foot.

"Try to walk to me, boy."

The old woman was seated in her chipping white rocking chair, where she always was.

Gendry turned to her and grimaced, knuckles white from the tightness of his grip on the wooden bed frame.

"I _can't_ walk."

"Then hop, boy. I'm old, might be I'll die before you reach me if you keep up your bickering."

Gendry flushed, angry and pained and embarrassed. Carefully, he took a small hop with his one foot. With each little hop he grew more confident, until he dared to release the bedpost. He hopped again, and and his leg gave under him. He toppled forward, crying out in agony as he landed sprawled out on the hard dirt floor. In a flash, Tess was at his side, helping him sit up and filling his nose with the scent of fresh flowers.

"Tess, run out and find the boy a walking stick. Something sturdy. I mislike his colouring, I want him to get some fresh air as soon as he can."

"Yes, m'lady."

Tess helped Gendry hop back to his bed, and as soon as he was seated at the edge she turned and flew from the room in a whirl of bare feet and flowing skirts and silvery hair. Gendry exhaled and rubbed his hands together, trying to soothe the ache deep in the joints there.

"Have you been trying to remember?"

"I-... I'm always trying to remember."

Gendry brought his hands up to rub his eyes, then brought his palms down to feel the rough hair growing on his cheeks.

"And?"

Gendry shot the woman an annoyed look and dropped his hands to his lap, staring sullenly at his awful stump of a leg.

"I don't know. I can't remember. It hurts to think."

"Think all the same."

"I _can't_."

"When you were asleep, when Tess brought you here, you talked in your sleep."

"Is Tess your servant?"

"Heavens no."

The woman cackled, reaching into a basket at her side. She pulled out a wool blanket and draped it over her lap before folding her hands on top of the blanket.

"She acts like a servant."

"Tess is a good girl."

"What did I say in my sleep?"

Gendry mentally cursed the old woman. He doubted anything she said would be of any use to him.

"You would moan and moan about a ship... and about a wolf. Sometimes, when you were very sick with fever, you would say a name... Though it escapes me now. My memory is not what it used to be, you know."

"A _ship_?"

Gendry let his eyes close shut as he dropped his head into his hands. Most nights he had the same dream, always the same girl with her steely grey eyes. She was always sad in the dream, but never crying. She was too strong for that. She only turned her sad, steel eyes on him, and Gendry would suddenly be sick with guilt. 'You promised,' she would say, 'you promised to protect me, but you're gone.' The girl would turn then, and walk into the ocean. Gendry would chase her, screaming and pleading and trying his best to reach her, but she was always gone long before he even reached the water. Some nights, he dreamt that he would find her days later, floating dead in the water with her skin falling off her bones. Gendry shook the thought off and lifted his head, opening his eyes only a sliver.

"Are you deaf, boy? Yes, yes, a ship. And a wolf. And a girl's name. What was it, now..."

The old woman brought a shaky hand up to her mouth, tapping a bony finger to her pale lips. Gendry grimaced and turned away from her, staring down at his hands. He only held his tongue because this woman fed him and saw that he was taken care of. Otherwise, he wasn't sure he would be able to control his temper. The old woman opened her mouth to speak, just as Tess spun into the room, her pale pink skirts flying out around her. She held in her hands a simple, dark wooden walking stick with no particular carvings or decorations. Gendry shoved himself up off the bed and extended a hand towards Tess wordlessly.

"Here, careful."

Gendry bit back a scowl and took the stick. He pressed the end of the stick into the dirt floor, leaning his weight onto it tentatively, to test the strength of the wood. The length was slightly off, but the wood was sturdy enough, and it would do.

"Tess, take the boy for some fresh air. Just onto the porch, I think."

"Yes, m'lady."

Tess offered Gendry her arm, but he pretended not to notice. He moved the stick forward, planted it firmly into the ground, and hopped carefully with his good foot. Tess offered murmurs of encouragement every so often, a 'there, that's it', or 'almost there now' with every other hop he took. Gendry looked around, making notes of where it is he had been staying. The hallway outside of his room was short, with two open doorways on either side of him. Each room was nearly identical to his, containing only a few personal possessions besides the bed and chest of drawers. The hallway opened into a dimly lit kitchen. On the wall to his right there was a steep staircase that ended in a heavy metal door, and on the right there was another heavy metal door.

"This way, almost there now."

Tess lead Gendry to the metal door that wasn't blocked by stairs, which Gendry thanked all the Gods for, and reached into her bodice to produce a rusty iron key. She set to work unlocking and unbarring the various security measures on the door before she threw her weight against it, and the door swung out with a low creak. Sunlight flooded into the kitchen, bathing Gendry in warmth and burning his eyes. With a cry, Gendry brought his arm up to shield his sensitive eyes.

"Slowly, now. You'll get used to it."

In the distance, Gendry could hear the crashing of waves against rocks, and the song of birds. Little by little, he lowered his arm and squinted into the bright light. Tess walked out through the door and Gendry hopped after, half blind and crippled. Once through the door, Gendry felt cool wood against his bare foot, and the smell of saltwater filled his nose. Once his eyes were adjusted enough to make out shapes, Gendry looked around them. In front of them, the beach could just be seen off in the distance, through a gap in the wall of rock that surrounded them. A small wooden deck had been built, with a tarp hung over for shade. The entire clearing was enclosed in massive walls of rock, standing taller than Gendry would have been able to guess. From the outside, it must have looked like another rocky cliff along the bach. The top of the clearing was open to the elements, letting the sunlight stream down on them. Gendry turned back to look at the house, but no house could be seen. There was only the heavy metal door, and a massive wall of solid rock. Gendry turned to Tess, mouth hanging slightly open.

"We were underground?"

Tess nodded slightly, patting a splintered wooden chair for Gendry to sit. Gendry awkwardly lowered himself into the chair as Tess pulled another over, sitting beside him.

"Why?"

"M'lady is a cautious woman."

"Cautious? What do..."

"Were you a soldier? Do you remember?"

"I... I don't _think_ so, but I can't remember."

"Tell me what you _do_ remember."

"I..." Gendry sighed, turning his face up towards the sun. "I remember a girl. I mean, I don't really remember her, but... I remember what she looked like. She was with child, I think."

"What did she look like?

Gendry slid his eyes shut, conjuring up the image in his mind.

"Pretty. Dark hair. Pale. Grey eyes. Tiny, but strong."

"Your wife, might be."

"Might be."

"Why were you in White Harbor?"

"I don't _know_, Tess."

The words came out harsher than he intended them to, and Tess fell silent beside him. Even though he felt slightly guilty for snapping at her, Gendry was grateful for the quiet. After a moment, Gendry turned to Tess to study her in the light. Her hair was lighter than he originally thought, almost silver in the bright sunlight. Her eyes were so pale they might have been white, and her face was pretty even with dirt smudging it.

"Tell me where you found me. How. Everything."

Tess turned her face towards his and took a deep breath.

"Soldiers attacked. M'lady and I came down here, and we were safe. When the fighting was done, M'lady sent me out to check for survivors... You were on the docks, around a bunch of other... other bodies. I might not have noticed you, if you hadn't been moaning."

"Moaning?"

"You were saying a name... Arya, I think. Maybe that's the girl you remember."

The name struck Gendry as familiar, but the origin slipped through his fingers as soon as he tried to grasp at it.

"Anyway, I came over to check you... You were all bloody, and your leg was all mangled. I got the baker's son, Tom to help me carry you back to M'lady. You must be someone special, she never takes this much interest in injured soldiers."

"Why did she send you out there in the first place?"

"She's a healer... It's her job to heal people... You were real bad the first week. Infection set into your leg, it smelled terrible. M'lady and I tried everything we could to save your leg, but in the end we could only save the top half. You were sick with fever for a long time, though. We thought you would die for sure... But you pulled through, it seems. Might be the Gods don't want you yet. You still have business here."

Gendry looked away from Tess, letting the sunlight warm his face up. Tess fell silent again, and the only sounds to be heard were the waves breaking on the rocks, and the birds singing in the distance. _Yes,_ Gendry thought, _I have something to finish up here... If only I could remember what._ Pain bubbled up behind Gendry's eyes, and he rested his head back against the top of the wooden chair, letting the image of the grey eyed girl fill his mind.


	15. Remembering

**A/N: Ah- I know, this took forever. I'm sorry! And you're all going to hate me by the end of it too. Oh well. Hopefully the time jumping isn't getting too confusing. Anyway. I promise the next update will be out quicker, and it's going to be Arya. Let me know what you guys think!**

"Wake up, my sweet."

_"Where are you? Why did you leave me?"_

_"I didn't want to! I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry. I'm trying-"_

_Her mouth opened and an ungodly shriek passed her lips, making Gendry drop to his knees and cover his ears. She was a goddess, terrible and full or wrath and beautiful to behold. Her hair was stark black against her icy white-blue skin, her body wrapped in flowing white silks that were whirling around her thin form as she seemed to levitate off the cold stone ground._

_"You dare say you're trying? You lie with another woman and play house, and you dare say this to me?"_

_"Please, please, I never meant to..."_

_"Enough!"_

_Her voice was booming, louder than life, shaking Gendry to his core. Her eyes glowed like molten silver, boring into Gendry's sole, seeing all of his lies and faults and mistakes._

"Shh, it's only a dream. Wake up."

_"Please, please... Please... No! Don't go!"_

_She was receding then, shrouded by mists. The waves were audible in the distance, crashing against rocks. As much as Gendry feared her presence, being alone was so much worse. Gendry stumbled to his one good foot, frantically hopping towards her. He was determined to catch her that time. He wasn't going to let her slip through his fingers, not again. Suddenly, the toe of his boot caught on a crack in the stone, and Gendry flew forward to land sprawled out on the cold, wet ground. Screams echoed through the mist, but she was already too far gone. He would never catch her._

"Gendry, love, wake up."

A cry caught in Gendry's throat at the sensation of a hand against his bare chest. His skin was on fire, searing with pain from his scalp to his toes. His chest heaved as he took gulping, ragged breaths and tried to slow his racing heart. Slowly, Tess' face swam into view. Her silvery blonde curls were cascading across her face, obscuring her milky blue eyes and porcelain skin. Her bare shoulders and chest were dotted with goosebumps at the chill in the air. Any other man might have appreciated how beautiful she looked in the pale morning light, but Gendry's mind was too clouded with visions of his dark haired Goddess to notice.

"Are you alright?"

Gendry blinked a few times, cleared his throat to speak, and then nodded slightly. Silently, Tess brushed her hair back and slid gracefully from the bed. Naked, she walked to the dresser and slipped a plain white shift over her head. Gendry slowly pushed himself up and swung his one good leg over the side of the bed. Carefully, he shifted forward so his stump of a leg hung over the edge of the bed. Tess returned to the bedside then, and helped Gendry into black breeches and a rough white tunic. She knelt down then, rolled up the cloth on his stump, and worked on strapping on a splintered chunk of wood with a broad, flat base. Gendry rubbed his cheeks, feeling the rough hair growing there, and found himself wondering if Arya would have liked his beard. Not long had passed before Gendry began to remember her. At first, it was only from dreams. He would dream little details that he knew he couldn't have made up, but when he tried to grasp where he knew them from, they slipped through his fingers. When the old woman had his wooden leg made and Gendry was allowed to visit town, certain things would remind him of her. He might see a strawberry pie, or a dark haired babe, and he would get this feeling that he was forgetting something. However, it wasn't until recently that Gendry regained his full memory.

Gendry glanced down, and saw that Tess was lacing his boot up. As soon as she rose to her feet, Gendry did the same. Quickly, Tess reached behind her and pulled his walking stick from it's perch against the wall. Gendry took the stick in his hand, grinding the butt into the dirt floor and testing his weight on it. He imagined what the old woman might say if she were still with them.

"Will you be back for supper?"

"I'm not sure."

"Have a nice day."

"Tess, hand me that bundle over there."

Like the obedient servant that she was, Tess turned and fetched the cloth bundle for Gendry without raising a question. Gendry gripped the bundle securely in his free hand, inclined his head in thanks, and turned to walk out of the room.

"Gendry..."

He flinched at his name, not yet used to hearing it from her lips, but he turned to face her all the same.

"Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

Gendry cocked his head to the side and opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could get a syllable out, Tess' lips were upon his in a delicate little kiss. She pulled back, her big blue eyes turned up at Gendry, and waited for him to say something. He never did. He only turned his back, and walked out of the room, moving quick as he dared until he was up the steps and out of the house. A gust of cool salty air met Gendry as he paused to look around him. Three years had passed, but the town was just starting to thrive again. The sun was just rising, and there were already merchants and sailors and children playing in the streets. A small, empty smile touched Gendry's lips at the sight of a little dark haired boy digging in the dirt only a few feet away. With a sigh, Gendry carefully unwrapped the long cloth bundle in his hands. As the fabric fell away, the steel shone in the pale sunlight, sparkling and dancing from just having been cleaned. To Gendry, nothing he owned was more precious than this sword. Not Tess, not his good foot and both of his hands, nothing.

_Walking was still hard for Gendry, and the leather straps of his wooden leg cut into his skin painfully as he hobbled down the stone street. The town was mostly empty, buildings burned or ruined, people fled. Only the vultures remained, and a few townspeople trying to rebuild. The streets were almost empty that day, save for a boy of no more than three and ten walking towards Gendry on the opposite side of the street. A glint of steel at his hip made Gendry stop._

_"Oi!"_

_The boy jumped and looked over, putting his hands up quickly in surrender._

_"I didn't do nothin' wrong, mister, I swear I didnt."_

_Gendry hobbled over and jabbed a finger at the sword on his hip._

_"Where'd you get that? You steal it?"_

_"No, I found it! I swear it, I did. I didn't do nothin' wrong, mister, I didn't."_

_"Give it here."_

_Hands shaking, the boy pulled the sword free of his belt and dropped it at Gendry's feet before he took off running. Gendry didn't even bother to watch him go. Carefully, he knelt down and picked the sword up._

_Needle._

Even though the hilt of the sword was dwarfed in Gendry's big hands, he stuck the sword through his belt so it rested comfortably against his hip. He wasn't about to lose the only piece of Arya he had left. With a shaky breath, Gendry shifted his grip on the walking stick, and started down the street.

"Morning, Gen!"

Gendry turned to smile at the busty red-haired woman who called out to him from a stand on the side of the street.

"Morning, Helen."

"Come 'ere, then, say hello."

Gendry limped over to her stand, sniffing at the air as it grew thicker with the scent of fresh meat pies. Wordlessly, Helen smiled a gap-toothed smile and held a little pie out to Gendry. This was their routine, an unquestioned morning ritual. With his first genuine smile all morning, Gendry took the pie in his free hand and bit into the warm, flaky crust.

"You've outdone yourself, this is great."

"Well, I'm glad you like it. Go on, then. Don't want to be late, do you?"

"Have a nice day, Helen."

"And you, my lovely."

Gendry waved quickly before he turned and continued walking, finishing off his pie in only two bites. He licked the grease off his fingers as he went, smiling and waving at everyone who he had come to know. Only when the narrow stone building came into view did Gendry slow down. The front door was wide open, as well as the windows, to let fresh air in. A small wooden porch was in front of the building, with only one rocking chair on it. Seated in the rocking chair was the old man, with his balding white hair and leathery olive skin. Before he even reached the steps, the old man knew he was there. Blind as a bat and frail as a moth, the old man was still sharp as a nail.

"You are being late, boy. You are having nightmares again, no?"

"I _always_ have nightmares."

"Just so, just so... Come, come. You are having much work to do on this day. You are remembering your lessons?"

The man rose to his feet with surprising grace, making his way into the shop without the held of Gendry or a walking stick. With a measure of acidity, Gendry noted the irony of the situation and followed, more slowly. The shop was dim, even with the open door and windows, and smelled constantly of leather and incense. Tall bookshelves dominated the shop, creating a maze of colourful leather bound books and scrolls. The old man moved with confidence to the counter, and seated himself behind it. He turned his unseeing eyes on Gendry and smiled warily.

"Yes, I... I remember."

"Just so. We will be only speaking in my tongue now." The old man clapped his hands together and pointed towards a pile of books sitting on the counter.

"Put these away."

His words were smooth now, liquid gold pouring from his mouth instead of his usual broken words. Gendry hesitated, working out the meaning in his mind before he nodded and scooped the books up in his free hand. He glanced at the book on the top and started towards the correct shelf. For two and a half years, the old man had been teaching him. He taught him how to read, how to write, how to cope with his injury, how to defend himself, how to speak low Valyrian. The old man was sharp and unforgiving, but he was the only person who saw Gendry as more than a cripple to feel sorry for. The old man pushed Gendry, purposely giving him tasks that would be impossible. When Gendry would get frustrated and yell and quit, the old man would only fold his bony hands over his stomach and wait. Inevitably, Gendry would finish the task with acid on his tongue and poison in his belly, but finish it all the same. That particular morning, the man had given Gendry a stack of seven thick tomes, all from different sections of the shop. Gendry fought to balance the books on his good arm as he moved, setting the stack down to put the first one on it's shelf.

"You will be leaving soon?"

Gendry had to pause, and form the sentence in his head before he spoke.

"A ship leaves in the morning for Braavos."

"And you are sure that your wolf girl will be in Braavos?"

Gendry carefully slid the thick book, which he now noticed was about different poisonous plants commonly found in Westeros, between two other leather-bound books.

"She... That is where... we..."

He hesitated, gripping the edge of the bookshelf and scrambling to find the right word.

"We going there. Before. Battle."

"You were going there, before the battle."

"Yes."

"Repeat what I said."

"We were going there before the battle."

"Just so. Finish that up, and we will have tea. We should celebrate our last day together."

Gendry smiled a little and shook his head as he carefully scooped the pile of books up in his good hand and hobbled down the rows of shelves. For the better part of an hour, Gendry worked in silence. Finally, when the last book had slid into it's place, Gendry made his way to the front of the shop and took a seat at a little round table, across from the old man. An intricately painted porcelain tea pot had been set out on the table, whisps of steam rising from it. The old man reached a hand out and poured Gendry's cup full of tea without spilling a drop, and extended a small saucer of sugar to Gendry.

"Have you told Tess yet?"

Gendry took a spoonful of sugar and stirred it into his tea, busying himself with watching the little granules of sugar dissolve.

"No."

"She loves you."

"Yes."

"And yet..."

"There is nothing... bad... about her."

"No, she's quite beautiful... But you have eyes only for your wolf girl, it would seem."

The old man took a sip of his tea and sat back in his rickety wooden chair, milky white eyes turning up towards the ceiling.

"I was in love once, you know."

Gendry raised an eyebrow, trying to imagine the old man being in love. He took a gulp of his tea, wincing as the liquid seared his throat.

"Oh?"

"She was the most beautiful girl you would ever see. She had big honey coloured eyes and fair skin..."

"What happened?"

"She was of noble birth, wealthy and promised to another besides... I was nothing to her. But so, this is how life goes."

Gendry watched the man carefully as he spoke, clutching his tea cup so tightly it might have shattered. The old man sighed deeply and folded his hands over his chest.

"Behind the counter boy, get me the silk pouch behind the counter."

Gendry rose, gripping the walking stick firmly before he walked the few steps to the counter. He crouched down, feeling blindly under the dark counter until his rough fingers stumbled upon smooth silk. He pulled the pouch out, noting that it was the size of a loaf of bread, and heavy in his arm. He carried it back to the table carefully, resting it in the old man's arms as gently as possible. Quickly, the old man untied the pouch and tilted the opening towards Gendry.

"Seven hells."

The sack was filled right to the top with coins- only half of which Gendry recognized as gold dragons. The rest of the coins he knew from books to be coins of Braavos, but he had never laid eyes on them himself.

"Here, then. Take it and go."

"What? I don't-"

Gendry realized he had slipped back into the common tongue.

"Take it, boy. I am an old man, waiting for the gift of death. What use have I for gold? Go, now, before I change my mind. Remember your lessons, and find your wolf girl."

"I don't... I don't know what to say..."

"Then say nothing, foolish boy. Go."

Gendry took the pouch from the man in his free arm, letting go of his walking stick for a moment to pull the drawstring shut.

"Goodbye, boy."

"Goodbye."

And with that, Gendry turned his back on the old man and the shop and walked out onto the streets, moving quickly as he could to hide the pouch of gold. Gendry knew almost all of the people who lived and worked on the waterfront, and almost all of them knew him. A pang of sadness hit him in his stomach as he considered that this was the last day he would spend with them. As he neared the little wooden house Gendry had built for him and Tess, Gendry saw that one of the merchant's daughters was helping Tess wash clothes in a big wooden tub. Tess' pale blue eyes flitted up, and a smile crossed her face.

"You're home very early."

"I'll be right back out, ok?"

Gendry carefully stepped up onto the porch and into the house. He pulled a handful of gold dragons coins from the bag and put them on the bedside table before he shoved the pouch into his bag and turned to the dresser. He pulled his clothes out quickly and shoved them all into the bag, but left the few other possessions he had accumulated through the years. The only one he packed was a thick, heavy leather bound book the old man had given him for a name day the previous year.- He slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way back out to the yard. The little girl helping Tess had to be no more than five, with big brown eyes and mousy brown hair held back by a dirty blue ribbon. Freckles dotted her round face and bare arms, and her white tunic and brown breeches were dirty. Something about her reminded Gendry of Arya, as most things did.

"I'm going to go down to the docks."

Tess's eyes snapped up, understanding flashing across her face. Gendry felt immensely guilty when he met her big blue eyes, but guilt was nothing new to him. Tess said nothing, only stared with tears welling in her eyes, and Gendry knew he wouldn't be able to handle her crying. So he turned his back on her and walked away from the home he helped build with his own two hands and hobbled past his friends and neighbors until he reached the docks. The merchant ship heading to Braavos was easy to spot, as it was painted a bright purple. The captain eyed Gendry wearily as he approached, but Gendry had already been given his instruction. Carefully, Gendry reached into his pocket and fingered the little iron coin for a moment before he held it out to the captain.

"Valar morghulis."

A flicker of recognition crossed the captain's gnarled face, and he cocked his head to the side. He opened his mouth, and they honeyed words of Braavos' version of Low Valyrian spilled out.

"Valar dohaeris. You wish for passage to Braavos?"

"Yes. I have gold. I can't work, but... I have gold."

The captain's eyes widened at Gendry's use of his language, and a small smile spread across his lips.

"Yes, of course you shall have passage. We depart at dawn, but you are welcome to come aboard now, if you must."

"Thank you."

The captain moved aside, and Gendry hobbled up the gangplank, ignoring the sideways glances he received from the crew members gave him, and he settled down into a secluded spot in the shade, and he waited

* * *

The sun was beating down on Gendry's head as he stepped onto the dock, senses overloaded from the flashing colours and smells and sounds. He stepped carefully along the wooden boards, careful not to let his clumsy wooden leg catch on anything. A market was laid out just across a bridge from the dock, crowded with men and women in brightly coloured clothes, laughing and eating and working. Butterflies fluttered in Gendry's stomach as he made his way towards the marketplace. After three years of working and waiting and suffering, he was finally there. He had envisioned that very moment for so long, but now that he was there he felt lost.

"Young man, young man!"

It took Gendry a moment to realize that the shout had been in the common tongue. Yearning for some semblance of familiarity, Gendry turned towards the shout. A man sat at a flower stand, half hidden behind rows of blooming flowers.

"You are from the Seven Kingdoms?"

Gendry slowly made his way to the stand, carefully looking over the flowers.

"Yes, you have the look about you. Tell me what you notice of these flowers, young man."

"They're all... common flowers, I think. I've seen 'em all before."

"Aha, yes! These are all flowers of your home. Where are you from, young man?"

Gendry looked at the man carefully, hesitating.

"I'm from... I'm from the north."

"Well, that's a very big place, isn't it? Hmmm, let's see now... Aha, here!"

The man reached forward and plucked out a pale blue rose before he held it out to Gendry.

"Feel the petals, young man."

Tentatively, Gendry extended a hand and let his fingertips brush along the top of the flower. A crease formed between his eyes.

"It's... Did you carve these?"

"No, they are true flowers, I assure you. Only... preserved."

"This flower, it's from..."

"Winterfell's own garden, these are from."

The man stuck his thumbs through his waistband proudly and smiled.

"How much?"

"Well, I take it you don't have no coins from 'round here, so for a fellow countryman, only one gold dragon."

Genry reached into his coin purse, acutely aware that the man was cheating him. All the same, he pulled out two gold dragons and placed them into the mans open palm. Before the man could thank him, Gendry turned and walked away, twirling the stem of the rose between his fingers. His bag was heavy on his back, and he was in need of a bath, so Gendry headed towards a building he thought might be an inn. He was nearly to the door when his walking stick gave way under him and went flying a few feet away, leaving Gendry to throw his arms out and try not to fall.

"Sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

The squeaking was in the tongue of Braavos this time, and coming from close to Gendry's feet. In a flash of curly black hair a little boy darted away, only to return a moment later with Gendry's walking stick. Before Gendry looked at the boy, he gripped the walking stick firmly and tested his weight on it. Then, he looked at the boy. Big grey eyes were staring back up at him that made his heart jump into his throat. They were set under a mop of tangled black curls, which was in stark contrast to his uncommonly pale skin. Suddenly, Gendry's tongue felt like cotton.

"Are... Uhm. It... it is alright."

The boy cocked his head to the side and looked up at Gendry curiously, and Gendry knew from that look that this was her child.

"What is your name?"

"Ned."

"Ned... Ned, what is your mother's name?"

The boy narrowed his eyes at Gendry, reaching up to push some hair back with a dirt smudged hand.

"Is... is your mother's name Arya? Arya Stark?"

"I don't think so, mister... Mummy said I shouldn't talk to strangers, she'll be mad. Jaqen will be too."

The boy took a step back from Gendry, eyeing him warily.

"Wait, wait. Can you do..." Gendry cursed his nerves, scrambling for the right word. "Can you do a favour for me? Give this to your mother."

Gendry held the flower out to the boy, who snatched it and ran off without another word, leaving Gendry to stand on the street with his heart racing. Gendry wanted to follow him, and find Arya right then, but the ache in his phantom foot and the strain on his back reminded him that he was not the able young man he used to be. With a final glanced that proved the boy was nowhere to be seen, Gendry turned and entered the inn. He bought his room out for a week and hobbled up the steps, stripped and bathed, and went to bed with an empty stomach.

When he rose again, the sun had not yet come up. The inn was oddly quiet after a long, rowdy night, which Gendry appreciated as he rose and dressed himself for the day. He strapped his wooden leg on, laced his boot up, grabbed his walking stick, and made his way out onto the street. The first rays of morning light were barely visible, and the streets were far less crowded than they had been the previous afternoon. Without another plan or option, Gendry started back towards the dock to ask the sailors already up and working if they knew of Arya's whereabouts.

"You be a good boy and listen to Jaqen. You do your lessons and you _stay_ _with Isri._ Am I understood?"

"Yes, mummy."

The voice was carried to Gendry from his left why whisps of wind. He would have sworn that his hear stopped at the sound. Holding his breath, Gendry turned his head towards the sound. Two people stood, along with the little boy from the marketplace. A man and a woman, standing profile to Gendry, facing each other. The woman was knelt down, embracing the boy. She let him go then and stood to face the man again.

"And _you_..."

He could see a smile playing at her lips as she stood on her toes and draped her arms around the man's neck.

"You behave yourself while I'm gone. Go easy on Ned with training. Don't let anything happen to him or I'll kill you myself."

"A man would never hurt the boy."

_Jaqen, you traitor._

"Mm. Just the same, behave yourself. Promise."

"Promise."

The girl leaned up then, and captured the man's lips against her own. Gendry's breath caught in his throat, and a dull ache throbbed in his chest. Very abruptly, the girl dropped her arms and stepped back. She said something quietly that Gendry could not here before her head turned sharply towards where Gendry was standing. For an agonizing moment, they locked eyes. And then, Arya Stark turned and boarded a ship, slipping yet again through Gendry's weary fingers.


	16. Myriah

**A/N: Did you think I abandoned you? I'm so sorry! If you don't know, my husband's father passed away so I was in America for a few weeks. Once we got home I was just so busy that writing seemed absolutely impossible. However, things have calmed down significantly, and I should be able to post much more regularly from now on. I pinky swear that there will be more Gendry in the next chapter. Enjoy!**

"A girl must be safe... remember her training."

"Jaqen, I'm not some fledgling anymore. I've done this plenty of times before. Stop worrying so much."

All morning, the man had been reminding her of little things she had to remember on her assignment. As she packed her clothes and got dressed and strapped her weapons on, Jaqen had sat anxiously on her bed while drilling her in lessons she would most likely never need. She broke her fast on stale bread and water, and he sat beside her asking about her identity. When they had woken Ned from his chambers and dressed him for the early morning walk to the docks, Jaqen had whispered warnings about Dorne to Arya. And the whole walk to the docks, Jaqen had barely stopped talking.

"A lovely girl must be careful in Dorne, that is all."

"I've been worse places than Dorne, Jaqen... Maybe I'll even get a suntan."

Jaqen shot Arya an annoyed look from the corner of his eyes, eliciting a smile from the girl.

"Mummy, when will you be home?"

Arya hesitated before answering him.

"I don't know. I won't be gone too long. You can show me everything you've learned when I get back."

Ned grew quiet as Arya slowed to a stop just in front of the bright purple ship sailing for Dorne. The sun was just coming up, and Arya knew they had to keep their goodbyes short. Ned wrapped his arms around Arya's leg, pressing his face against the thin fabric of her breeches. Jaqen stopped in front of Arya, facing her with the same worried expression on his face.

"I don't know why you're so worried."

"My lovely girl must promise to be careful."

"Promise."

Arya knelt down and pulled Ned into her arms, resting her chin atop his nest of unruly black curls. His breath was hot against her chest, but he was strong like her. He never cried when she had to leave on assignments.

"You be a good boy and listen to Jaqen. You do your lessons and you stay with Isri. Am I understood?"

"Yes, mummy."

Arya felt a surge of pride at how strong and mature he was proving to be as she released him and turned her attention back to Jaqen.

"And _you..._"

Arya smiled slightly as she stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around Jaqen's neck, breathing in his scent. For a moment, something seemed terribly wrong about it. She pushed the thought away and looked up at him.

"You behave yourself while I'm gone. Go easy on Ned with training. Don't let anything happen to him or I'll kill you myself."

"A man would never hurt the boy."

Jaqen looked insulted, hurt almost, at her warning. Arya smiled a little, pleased.

"Mm. Just the same, behave yourself. Promise."

"Promise."

Arya leaned up slightly, and Jaqen bowed his head until their lips locked together. Arya ran her tongue across Jaqen's lower lip, tasting cinnamon and heat like she always did. Quickly, she broke the kiss and dropped her arms, taking a small step back. Jaqen caught her hand in a smooth, lighting fast motion.

"There's someone on the dock watching us. Take Ned back now. I'll see you soon."

Jaqen was too well trained to look around, let alone be startled by her sentence. He only knelt down and scooped Ned up in his arms, and waited for Arya to board the ship. Quickly, Arya let her eyes flit up towards the figure standing only a few metres away from them.

_No._

Arya felt her breath catch in her throat, and felt her limbs go numb. He was gaunt, thin and hunchbacked and sickly looking. He leaned heavily on a gnarled wooden walking stick, and a black beard clung to his thin jaw. He looked twenty years older than he did in her dreams, but those piercing blue eyes were the same. Jaqen reached forward and laid his fingers gently on his wrist, snapping her back to reality. Harshly, she scolded herself for forgetting herself so easily. Without another word, Arya turned and scurried up the gangplank of the purple ship with all the dignity she could manage. She stood at the railing and gripped the painted wood firmly as the ship drifted away from the dock. She turned her eyes to the blue eyed man, and felt her heart squeeze in her chest as she saw he was staring right back. His left hand lifted slightly towards her, like he meant to reach out. After a moment, he let it drop back down to his side, and he turned his back to Arya. Leaning heavily on his walking stick, he hobbled down the street, away from the dock. With a deep breath, Arya pulled her scarf up over her head and turned her face to the ground. When she looked up again, one of the sailors was watching her with wide eyes. Arya turned to face the man and let her lips curl up into a smile, skin tingling at the sensation of the new face. Silently, she brought a finger up to her too-full pink lips and motioned for the man to be quiet. With a little squeak, the man turned and fled with his dirty boots pounding on the wood of the deck.

Arya let her face relax and strode purposely to the entrance to the cabins. She pulled the hatch open and dropped down to the underbelly of the ship, disregarding the ladder altogether. With her scarf pulled securely around her face, Arya stepped into her cabin and shut the door securely behind her. To keep herself from dwelling on the man, she dropped her bag onto the bed and pushed her scarf back. She peeled her breeches and her tunic off and opened her bag, pulling out a light blue sheer silk dress. She pulled it over her head and switched her rough cotton scarf out for an intricately decorated matching blue silk scarf, and put sandals on her feet. Arya took a deep breath and pulled a looking glass out of her bag to check her new face. Her eyes were almost catlike, tilting up at the edges and coloured like honey. Her whole face was catlike. Her high cheekbones gave way to a small button nose and full pink lips. Satisfied, Arya put the looking glass away and made her way back up to the deck of the ship. In the bright sunlight, Arya's body was clearly defined beneath the sheer silk of her dress, which drew the attention of everyone she passed.

"'Scuse me, miss?"

Quick as a snake, calm as still water, Arya spun on her heel to face the thin voice. A shriveled old man stood before her, milky white eyes unseeing and bony hand clutching tight to a white wooden walking stick.

"How did you know I am a woman?"

Arya made sure to speak in Dorne's accented version of the common tongue, and smile sweetly at the man despite his lack of vision.

"Oh, you smell much too pretty to be a man, you do. I was hoping you would speak the common tongue. Would you be so kind as to help an old man to his cabins?"

Arya narrowed her eyes at the man, suddenly uneasy. Nonetheless, she linked her arm to the old man's at the elbow and lead him down the steps to the cabins.

"Sure. Do you know your cabin number?"

"Yes yes, of course. Ah, now, what did he say... Well, I'm nearly certain it was the second door on the left, the first floor down. Where are you from, dear? Certainly not Braavos, your Common Tongue is too clean."

"Sunspear. I was only visiting a friend in Braavos."

"Dorne, eh?"

The old man brought a square of cloth up to his mouth and made a terrible, phlegmy sound Arya assumed to be a cough.

"Yes, I can almost picture you now. Long black hair, olive skin, deep brown eyes."

Abruptly, Arya pulled her arm back and took a step away from the man.

"There's your cabin. Have a nice day."

As Arya made her way back to the deck of the ship, she could hear the old man laughing behind her. Her skin was crawling, but she told herself that was normal. When she broke free to the surface of the ship, another woman was rushing up the gangplank even as the crew lifted it, with a bundle of bright cloths secured tightly in her arms. Her black wiry curls were tousled and unruly in the morning winds. She was very young, Arya could tell, younger even than Arya herself. Quickly, Arya made her way over to the girl and switched her speech to that of Braavos.

"Are you alright? I saw you rushing on."

The woman turned her eyes on Arya and smiled slightly, clearly relieved at the prospect of another woman who spoke her language on the ship.

"I had to sneak away, I was sure I would not make it."

"Sneak away? From where?"

Arya took the girl by her arm and walked her down to the cabins. It might serve her purpose to have allies on the ship, and this would be an easy one to make.

"My husband."

The woman had lowered her voice, so Arya turned to face her.

_Look with your eyes_.

The girl had traces of bruises, new and old, all along her jaw and neck. Her lip was healing, but had been broken open no more than a week ago, and a puckered scar ran from the corner of her eyebrow down to the line of her jaw.

"Oh, you poor thing. Have you no family to help you?"

The girl shook her head slightly, letting her curls sway in the process. The bundle in her arms started fussing.

"My father died before I was born, and my mother died two years ago. I had no family but them."

"What is your name?"

"Talea."

"Talea. I am Myriah. Where are you headed, Talea?"

Talea shook her head slightly, and reached into the bundle of cloth to let the child work it's gums over her knuckle.

"I do not know. This was the only ship leaving now that I could afford."

"This ship will stop at a port in Westeros, across the Narrow Sea, before it makes its way to sunspear. I know not which port."

"Westeros... I've always wanted to see Westeros."

"Do you have anyone there who can help you?"

She shook her head slightly, and Arya bit back a sigh of annoyance at how childish she was.

"It's not important. Get some rest, dear."

The woman nodded slightly and offered Arya a small smile before she scurried off to the cabins. Finally alone, Arya filled her lungs with the salty sea air and turned her face up to the sun in an attempt to calm her racing heart. She turned to face the dock, where through the thick morning fog, she could see the man walking slowly away. Arya shifted her gaze to Jaqen, who was at a sweets cart. Arya bit back a smile and made a mental note to scold Jaqen for spoiling Ned so much, but she knew she wouldn't. With one final breath, Arya turned and scouted out a shady spot to sit, where she could observe the people around her.

Time passed on the little purple ship, time Arya spent observing the people around her. More than half of the passengers left the ship at the port in Westeros, and the second half of the journey was much less interesting. Arya spent most of her time perfecting and memorizing details of Myriah Shara's story that no one would ever bother to question. Still, she prefered to be prepared. The days grew steadily hotter as they neared Dorne. When they finally reached the port, the sun was beating down on Arya's head as she stepped out onto the sandy cobblestone path. The men were quick with their compliments as she passed, throwing them the occasional smile or wave. Absently, Arya thought back to the name of the brothel the kindly man had mentioned. She only had to walk for a few minutes before she saw the sign, but in that few minutes droplets of sweat were dripping down her back, making the sheer silk of her dress stick to her skin. The windows were all open in the ornate building, with busty olive-skinned women fanning men lounging around with large parchment fans.

"Can I help you?"

Arya turned to smile at the woman before her. She was oddly beautiful, with shiny black hair that curled gracefully down to the small of her back, and big almond-shaped eyes. A jeweled stud was pierced through the side of her nose, catching the light every time she moved her head. She wore a loose gauzy dress that swayed lightly in the breeze created by the fans.

"I'm Myriah."

Arya bowed her head slightly to the woman and gave her a coy smile. Recognition flashed across the womans face briefly, before she grasped Arya by her arms and kissed her on both cheeks.

"Of course, we have been expecting you. Come along, you must want to freshen up from your journey. Your trip went well, I hope?"

"As well as being stuck on a ship can go."

Arya smiled as the woman linked elbows with her and walked her across the open room to a marble staircase.

"You poor thing, you must have been so bored. Sailors are such terrible company."

The woman laughed softly as they ascended the steps, and nodded slightly at a woman who passed them on the way.

"They were dreadfully boring." Arya smiled slightly, glancing over her shoulder at the woman descending the steps. She was fair skinned and fair haired, and freckles dotted the skin on her face.

"Well, you should have much better company here. Oberyn Martell himself came here once, in his youth."

"Truly?"

The woman smiled and nodded at Arya, leading her down an airy hallway once they reached the top of the stairs. A few of the doors had curtains drawn across the openings, with pants and moans and grunts coming from within. Arya did her best to seem unphased by the noises.

"Here we are."

The woman walked Arya into an airy chamber and let her arm go. A featherbed was in the center of the room, with a wooden frame rising up around the bead. Silk drapes were hung on the frame, closing in the bed. There were windows around the room, with a small couch under the largest of the windows. There were books, a table with a fresh wine pitcher and fruit, and a cyvasse table to keep Arya entertained when she was bored.

"These will be your chambers. If there is anything that is not to your liking, please let me know."

"This is perfect, thank you."

"Would you like a bath?"

"A bath would be lovely."

Arya smiled at the girl and set her bag on the floor at the edge of the bed before she perched herself on the mattress to unlace her sandals.

"Of course. I will have fresh water brought up right away. When you are ready, you may join us downstairs for dinner."

"Thank you."

The woman smiled and bowed her head slightly before she turned and swept from the room. Arya crossed the room to the wardrobe and picked out a sheer purple dress that belted at the waist and tied behind the neck. When a serving girl had filled Arya's tub, she stripped and slipped into the lukewarm water, washing away the sweat and grime of travel that couldn't be removed with a washcloth and bucket of saltwater. When her new skin and new face and new hair were scrubbed clean, Arya dried herself off and slipped the dress over her head. She pulled the belt tight at her waist, braided her hair back with ribbon and a jeweled headband, and laced her sandals up. She took the black stick of charcoal laid out on the vanity and drew over the outline of her eyes with it, and then smeared red-tinted cream on her lips. When she was pleased, Arya walked gracefully as she could down the stairs.

Five girls were seated on cushions around a low marble table, with big dishes of foods Arya had never seen before cluttering the center of the table. They were piling food onto their plates and a serving girl was filling their cups with a deep red wine. Arya inclined her head slightly and walked slowly, to sink down into the last open cushion.

"Myriah, you look wonderful."

The same woman who greeted her now beamed at her from across the table. Arya gave her a warm smile in thanks for the compliment, and took a sip of her wine.

"Oh, how rude of me. Girls, this is Myriah. She's joining us from a holiday in Braavos."

To Arya's right, the fair woman she passed on the stairs cleared her throat.

"What's Braavos like? Have you traveled many places?"

Arya took her time taking a sip of wine and setting the goblet down before she glanced around the room.

"Braavos is..."

Arya smoothed down the folds of her dress, searching for the right words.

"Braavos is foggy. The people are hot blooded. It constantly smells of fish... The brothels were really the only redeeming quality. They have pleasure barges like you've never seen before. I was born in Lemonwood, but I came to Sunspear when I was six. I have been to Braavos, Pentos, Lorath, Myr, Lys, Tyrosh, and Kings Landing."

"King's Landing?"

The fair girl's pale blue eyes widened.

"You must forgive Lillith, she becomes so terribly homesick from time to time."

Arya turned to smile at the girl called Lillith.

"You are from King's Landing?"

"Maidenpool. But I lived in King's Landing, for a time."

"And did you like your stay there?"

The girl hesitated, but before she could open her mouth to speak Arya cut her off with laughter.

"You don't need to grasp at a half true compliment, darling. It's an absolutely foul city with very, very few redeeming qualities. I much prefer it here, don't you?"

The girl gave Arya an uncertian smile before she turned back to her food. Arya spooned some onto her own dish and took a small bite. Jaqen had warned her how spicy the food was, but Arya still needed to nearly drain her wine cup to calm the burning of her tongue.

"Are you alright, sweetling?"

"You must forgive me, my time abroad has made me grow unaccustomed to spice."

"I remember after I spent a year in King's Landing during my youth, it took months to get used to eating Dornish food again."

Arya smiled and nodded and held her cup out for the serving girl to refill it.

"Where are the rest of the girls? Surely this is not everyone."

"Oh no, the other girls are still working. They will get supper later, in shifts. Only the five- excuse me, six of us, sit down to eat together. We're the important ones."

The woman winked at Arya and popped a pastry into her mouth as Arya took another sip of wine.

"But you must hurry, dear. One of our most wealthy clients must have heard that someone new was arriving. He asked for you by name, and he should be here any moment."

Arya's heartbeat quickened in her chest. She told herself to subdue it, that fate could certainly not be so kind as to make this job so easy.

"Wealthy? Is he a lord, or..."

"A merchant."

The woman shrugged distastefully, swirling her wine around inside the cup.

"But a wealthy man all the same. He will pay you well, if you please him. And it will serve as an opportunity for us to see how well you... fit in, shall we say."

Arya smiled and nodded slightly, taking a final sip of wine before she rose to her feet.

"You may send him up to my chambers when he arrives."

Arya had the feeling she would be grappling for control with this woman if she had to stay much longer. It mattered not. She had her training, and she knew how to handle with women like that. Arya swept from the room with all the dignity she could manage, and made her way back up to her room. With the door soundly shut behind her, Arya allowed herself to take a deep breath and think about what she was going to do for the first time since stepping onto the boat. Arya had killed men before, and women, when the job dictated. She had no doubt that she could kill him, though she tried to tell herself that that was the source of the knot in her stomach. Arya crossed the room to her vanity, and sank down into the chair. When she let her eyes slide shut for a moment, the face of the blue eyed man surfaced. A sharp knock came at the door, forcing Arya to throw her eyes open.

"One moment."

Arya vaulted off the chair and pulled her bag out from under the bed, nimble fingers flying to retrieve a cloth pouch the size of a gold dragon. She tucked the pouch under the gold band on her wrist and went to the door, trying to appear as calm as possible. When she pulled the door open, a mammoth of a man greeted her. His face was impossibly round, and his oily black hair was slicked tight against his scalp. The girth of his stomach strained against a richly embroidered red runic and cloth-of-gold breeches. Jeweled rings encased all of his pudgy, purple fingers, and jeweled studs lined the entire length of his left ear. However, it was the jeweled heart pinned to his tunic that caught Arya's attention. It would seem that fate smiled on her that day.

"Ah, you are,"

The man paused to cough and push his way into the room. He toed his boots off as Arya closed the door behind her.

"You are even more beautiful than I was told. Come here, let's have a look at you."

Arya gritted her teeth together for only a moment before she plastered on a smile and turned to face the man. She crossed the small distance between them to stand in front of the man. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop from flinching when the man placed his fingers on her shoulders, turning her this way and that. He leaned forward, breath hot and reeking of wine against her face.

"You _are_ pretty, aren't you."

Something twisted inside Arya then, something awful and painful that threatened to break her. The urge to break the fat man's neck and get him as far away from her as possible was deliciously tempting. But instead, Arya took a deep breath and smile as surely as she could manage at the man.

"Be a dear and pour me some wine, ah... What was your name again?"

"Myriah, my lord."

"Yes, Myriah. Be a dear and pour me a glass of wine."

Arya bowed to the man and let a small smile tug at her lips as she turned away, crossing the room to the table where the wine flagon and goblets sat. She picked the flagon up, and deftly pulled the ribbon securing the pouch beneath her bracelet as she did so. As she poured the wine with her back to the man, white powder trickled into the cup. When the cup was full and the pouch was empty, Arya scooped the goblet up and turned back to face the man. He was seated on the couch under the window, looking out. Arya walked over to him, only to have the man snatch the wine from her hands and pull her into his lap.

"That's a good girl."

Arya's skin was crawling there the man's fingers dug into her thigh. Still, she watched carefully as the man drained the wine cup. He set the goblet down on the edge of the couch and planted slobbery kisses on Arya's neck. Arya bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard the taste of metallic blood filled her mouth.

_Not long now. Patience._

The man tugged at the tie behind her neck, exposing her breasts as the top of her dress fell away.

"Yes, that's..."

The man broke into a coughing fit, and brought a hand to his chest.

"Are you quite alright, my lord?"

Arya let a smile come freely to her lips then, reveling in the look of terror in the fat man's eyes. Arya stood and stepped away from the man as he fell to the ground, still clutching at his chest. Arya waited another moment before she knelt down and pressed two fingers to his throat. When she felt no pulse, Arya stood up, kicked over the table by the couch as if she had fallen into it, and let a terrible scream escape her lips. It took only seconds for the woman who greeted her when she arrived to burst into the room, almond eyes wide with panic. Her eyes darted from the fat man to Arya, immediately softening when they met Arya's.

"Oh, you poor dear."

The woman crossed the room to Arya and scooped her up in her arms like a mother would a child, wiping away Arya's tears and smoothing down her hair. The woman called out for someone to find a guard as she covered Arya's chest up and tied her dress in place. She helped Arya to her feet and lead her out of the room and down the stairs, where she brought her a glass of wine and a sweet.

"There there, dear. That fat old thing had a weak heart. It wasn't your fault, dear. You mustn't blame yourself. Oh, you poor thing."

The woman smoothed Arya's hair down as the other girls all fluttered about her, murmuring their apologies and sweet little things meant to cheer Arya up. Outwardly, Arya cried and nodded and accepted their kind words in a performance that would put Cersei Lannister to shame. Inwardly, however, Arya was soaring with joy. When the guards had removed the corpse and it had been made clear by a maester that a bad heart was the cause of death, passage back to Braavos was arranged for Arya.

"I imagine you won't want to stay here, my dear. I've spoken to the captains, there are three ships leaving tonight. One for Braavos, one for King's Landing, and one for Pentos."

"I will go back to Braavos. I have friends there still who will be willing to help me."

"Of course, dear. I'm so, so sorry. You must be terribly frightened."

The woman clasped Arya's hands in her own, and Arya let fresh tears spring to her eyes.

"Maybe I shall return some day, when this memory has faded."

"We should all like that very much. Safe travels, dear. I wish you all the very best."

Arya smiled warmly at the woman and slung her bag over her shoulder. As she made her way towards the docks, a smile associated only with the thrill of a job well done spread freely across Arya's face. Myriah's face melted away in the dark Dornish night, and Arya Stark began her journey home to see her son.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Sorry this is so short. There's been a lot going on in my life recently, and I just haven't had the time to write. My brother in law abandoned his one year old son, and my mother in law is in no state (financially or mentally) to take on any other responsibilities right now. So we've moved to America for the time being, and adopted the little boy. It's been tough adjusting, so again- really really sorry for the lack of updates and short chapters. Hopefully it'll be more consistent soon. Enjoy!**

"Boy."

A shaky sigh left Gendry's lungs as he turned to face the all too familiar voice. Jaqen looked just the same as he remembered, with red and white streaked hair, smug smile, and deceptively kind eyes. Only, Jaqen wasn't smiling just then. His thin lips were pressed firmly together in a grimace as he eyed Gendry up. On his back, Ned was happily licking the juice from a fruit pie off his fingers. Gendry couldn't help but scowl at how at ease the boy seemed with Jaqen, and how easily Jaqen seemed to care for the boy.

_That should be me_.

"A boy has the face of an old man."

Gendry's grip loosened and tightened on his walking stick, but he made no reply.

"Has a boy lost his tongue as well as his leg?"

"This is Arya's son."

Jaqen glanced up over his shoulder at the boy, and tightened his grip on the boy's legs. When he looked back to Gendry, he nodded slightly. He knelt down then, and let Ned down from his perch. With Gendry's rough knowledge of low Valyrian, he was able to tell that Jaqen had instructed Ned to go help someone. The boy gave Gendry a sideways glance before he nodded at Jaqen, and skipped back over to the sweets cart. The woman running the cart scooped him up and peppered kisses on his face.

"Arya Stark is dead. He is Cat's son. Arya Stark had... There was... another."

Gendry's attention snapped back to Jaqen as he spoke. Jaqen glanced over his shoulder to make sure Ned wasn't running off before he continued.

"Arya Stark gave birth to twins. A boy, and a girl. The girl was not strong enough to live. Arya Stark died with the girl. That is Cat's son Ned."

"So, she's... what, a faceless man now?"

Jaqen tilted his head slightly to study Gendry, narrowing his eyes as he did.

"A boy should go home. Cat is happy here."

"I want to meet Ned. He's my son too. I deserve to meet him."

"A man and a boy both know this is not true. And a boy has already met him."

"He _is_ my son. If the Lannisters hadn't attacked-"

"_If_ matters little and less to this man."

With that, Jaqen turned to collect Ned from the woman at the sweets cart, and walked him down a street and out of sight. Gendry knew he should have been upset- crushed, even. And yet, a small smile spread across his face. That little boy, _his_ little boy- by heart if not by blood, was everything Gendry had dared to hope he was. His big grey eyes and mop of curly black hair, his cunning smile and scraped elbows, his easy carefree nature: they were all the things he had pictured. He wanted nothing more than to run after them, snatch Ned away, and raise him properly- the way Arya would have wanted. Gendry took one step before he remember that he was a cripple, and Ned knew Jaqen as a father before he had ever laid eyes on Gendry.

_Useless. You're useless._

With a deep sigh, Gendry turned and started back towards the inn. Before his injury, before the old woman and Tess and everything else, Gendry might have been angry. Furious, in fact. Now, he only felt empty. As he pushed into the inn and paid for a flagon of wine, the emptiness ate him from the inside out. He drank his wine in silence and stumbled clumsily up to his room, and found his way to a restless sleep.

Every day from then on, Gendry woke up before the sun rose. He broke his fast on bread and cheese, went down to the docks, and waited. The sun burnt his skin so badly it peeled, before turning a light tan. He nearly perfected his low Valyrian while listening and copying the sailors and merchants along the docks. Every time a ship docked, Gendry watched carefully as each passenger stepped out, hoping to catch sight of those familiar grey eyes. Even though he never did, Gendry still went back the next morning. One morning, the fourth week Gendry was in Braavos, he had only been sitting a few minutes when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Gendry glanced back to meet a pair of big grey eyes, which startled him so much that he nearly fell into the water.

"Ned!"

The boy laughed before he plopped down next to Gendry, letting his little legs dangle over the edge of the dock.

"Are you my mummy's friend?"

Gendry opened his mouth to speak, only to find that he didn't have the words to say. For a moment, all he could do was stare in awe at the little boy beside him. His grey eyes were turned up at Gendry, with a curious expression that made him look painfully similar to his mother. Gendry took a deep breath.

"Yeah, I, uhm... I was her friend, a long time ago."

Ned nodded a little, and reached over to touch the slab of wood that served as Gendry's lower leg.

"How did you get hurt?"

"I-..." Gendry bit his lip, selfishly wanting the boy to see him as more than a poor aging man.

"I was injured in a battle."

Ned's eyes widened.

"Are you a knight?"

Gendry smiled a little and looked up at the sky.

"Tell me about your mum. About your house. Are you happy? Do you like Jaqen? Is he nice to you?"

"Jaqen's teaching me how to fight. Maybe I'll be a knight one day too. Mummy tells me stories about knights sometimes, if I can't sleep. Jaqen says I'm getting much better."

Gendry looked over to see Ned's proud little smile.

"I bet you're the best in the whole world."

Ned smiled and looked out over the water, quiet only for a moment before he turned to Gendry once more.

"How did you meet my mummy?"

Gendry raised an eyebrow, straining to think back to King's Landing. Marching north with the night's watch recruits felt like a lifetime ago.

"We met a long time ago. Did anyone ever tell you about the wall, in Westeros?"

"Isri told me a story about it... is it really big?"

"Biggest thing you've ever seen. Your mum and I went there, when you were still in her tummy. So I s'pose you went to the wall too."

Ned looked down at his lap and wrung his hands together.

"I miss her. Jaqen said she'll be home soon, but I hate when she goes away."

Gendry took a breath and pushed himself to his feet.

"Come on then. Is there a shop or a cart you like?"

Ned looked up at Gendry curiously before he rose to his feet and looked around.

"There's a shop... it's not far."

He glanced uncertainly down at Gendry's wooden leg, and opened his mouth as if to ask something.

"I'll be fine. I've got on this far without help. I can walk a bit further."

Ned nodded then, and started off. He walked at a pace Gendry guessed might have been torturous for him, though it shamed Gendry to admit he was just barely keeping up. They went on like that for a few minutes before they came to the open door of a shop. Ned ducked inside just as Gendry caught sight of it. When Gendry finally made his way inside, Ned was already inspecting a little wooden sword. Intricate toys and trinkets lined the shelves, as well as books and paintings and maps.

"This is my favourite shop."

Gendry glanced over at Ned again, as he placed the sword back on it's shelf and turned to look at Gendry.

"There's lots of toys and stuff. Jaqen never lets me come in though. He says I have enough toys for all the kids in Braavos."

Gendry glanced around a final time before he met Ned's big grey eyes.

"Well, I'm not Jaqen. Go on, pick something out."

A wide grin spread across Ned's face as he spun around and started looking through the toys. Gendry watched him for only a moment before he crossed the room to a bookshelf. He carefully crouched down and ran a finger along the spines, scanning over the titles. The book that caught his eye was the only one in the shelf written in the common tongue. He pulled the book out and opened it carefully, leafing through the thin pages. The illustrations were impossibly detailed, and just from glancing at it Gendry could tell the book was about a knight and a princess. Gendry tucked the book under his arm and used to bookshelf as support to stand up, and he walked over to the counter where the shopkeeper sat.

In Valyrian, Gendry asked how much the book would cost. The leather-skinned shopkeeper lazily turned his gaze upwards and held three bony fingers up. Gendry didn't know which type of coin he wanted three of, so he carefully extracted three gold coins from his coin purse, and placed them on the counter. The shopkeeper snatched the coins up with new found zeal as Ned approached the counter, a collection of assorted toys in his arms. He knelt down on the floor next to Gendry and gingerly spread them out on the ground in front of them. Gendry carefully lowered himself down to inspect the toys. There was a wooden knight with moveable joints and a little wooden sword in his hand, an intricately painted spinning top, a miniature wooden horse, and a purple toy boat with a white cotton sail.

"Which one should I chose?"

Gendry pursed his lips and scanned over the toys briefly before he scooped them all up in the crook of his arm and pushed off his walking stick to get back to his feet. He turned carefully and laid the toys out on the counter, offering the shopkeeper a warm smile.

"How much for all of this?"

The shopkeeper warily looked over the assortment of toys. Before he could reach a conclusion, Gendry placed four more coins onto the counter.

"Is this enough?"

The shopkeeper bowed his head in silent thanks as Gendry collected the toys and passed them down to Ned. The boy's eyes were alight with excitement, a broad grin on his face. Gendry knew he ought to be more careful with his money, but that smile would make sleeping on the ground worth it.

"This is all for me...?"

"Who else? C'mon, I better get you home."

Ned pulled the hem of his tunic up to create a pouch, emptied his toys into it, and rushed back out onto the street. Gendry threw the shopkeeper one last smile before he turned and followed the curly haired boy as swiftly as he could manage. He found Ned waiting at the end of the street, staring down at the docks. When Gendry caught up, Ned turned to look at him.

"Do I have to go home already? What book is that? Will you read it to me?"

"I bought it so your mum could read it to you. Come on, then. Are you hungry? We'll get lunch, and wait to see if your mum gets back."

Ned smiled and easily grasped Gendry's hand in his own. His fingers felt impossibly delicate in Gendry's grip; so delicate that Gendry was almost afraid he would break them. Ned was a good sport about walking slowly enough that Gendry could keep up as they made their way to an inn right on the docks. Gendry bought them a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese, and they made their way back out to the docks. Ned raced ahead and seated himself at the edge overlooking the water, and spread his new toys out before him. Gendry carefully sat next to him, and broke off a chunk of bread for the boy.

"What're you going to name your knight?"

The boy accepted the heel of bread and bit into it, chewing pensively for a moment.

"I don't know. What's a good name for a knight?"

"Hmm... Well, your name is quite knightly. Ser Eddard."

Ned smiled proudly at Gendry as he tore into his bread, and set about positioning the toy knight into a fighting stance. The day wore on as they played and ate and talked, and Gendry thought he had never been happier in his whole life. As the sun was setting and Gendry was preparing to walk Ned back home, a ship arrived at the docks.

"D'you think that's it?"

"I dunno, Ned. We'll see. After this I really have to get you back, though."

Ned nodded and gathered his toys up, and both of them turned to watch the sailors making their way down the gangplank and onto the deck. When the last of them had gone, Gendry barely bit back a sigh of disappointment.

"Alright, come on then."

He turned and took a step away from the docks, where he paused to see if Ned was following.

"Wait! There, that's her! Mummy!"

Gendry spun around to see Ned racing towards the ship. A figure stepped down onto the docks, standing profile to Gendry. Her face was obscured by a rough white scarf wrapped around her head. She wore cotton breeches that were rolled to the knees, thin leather boots, and a dirty, oversized tunic. At Ned's cry, the woman turned to face them. A smile spread across her face, a smile that sent butterflies fluttering through Gendry's stomach. She scooped Ned up into her arms and spun him around in a circle, both of them laughing and exclaiming how much they had missed each other. When the excitement died down, the woman set the boy down on the docks and frowned at him. Ned turned, and pointed a finger at Gendry. And suddenly, Gedry was once again face to face with Arya Stark.


End file.
